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ACTORS   AND   ACTRESSES 


***** 


THE  PRESENT  TIME 


Digitized  by  tine  Internet  Arcliive 

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ACTORS  AND  ACTRESSES 


Great  Britain  and  the  United  States 


FROM  THE  DAYS  OF  DAVID  GARRICK  TO 
THE  PRESENT  TIME 


EDITED  BV 

BRANDER  MATTHEWS  and    LAURENCE  HUTTON 


''^Meanwhile  we  make  ourselves  happy  atnong  the  Wits 
and  the  Players.'''' 

"  Masks  and  Faces,"  act  /,  scene  2. 


*     *     * 


THE    PRESENT    TIME. 


CASSELL    &    COMPANY,     Limited 
739  &  741  Broadway,  New  York 


Copyright, 
1886, 
By  O.  M.  DUNHAM. 

A II  rights  reserved. 


Press  of  W.  L.  Mershon  &  Co., 
Rahway,  N.    J, 


CONTENTS. 


Miss  Mary  Anderson   . 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bancroft 
Mr.  Lawrence  Barrett 
Mr.  Edwin  Booth  . 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dion  Boucicault 
Mr.  J.  S.  Clarke  . 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Florence 
Mr.  Henry  Irving 
Mr.  Joseph  Jefferson  . 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kendal  . 
Mme.  Modjeska     .- 
Miss  Clara  Morris 
Mr.  John  T.  Raymond  . 
Miss  Ellen  Terry 
Mr.  J.  L.  Toole   . 
Mr.  Lester  Wallack   . 
Index       .        .        .        .        , 


PAGE 

William  L.  Keese          ,  i 

William  Archer    .  19 

William  M.  Laffan      .  ^il 

Lawrence  Barrett          .  55 

Benjamin  Ellis  Martin  11 

Edw.  Hamilton  Bell     .  95 

Laurence  Hntton  .         .  113 

J.  Ranken   Toivse          .  131 

II.  C.  Bun  tier                .  153 

William  Archer  .         .  175 

Jeannette  Leonard  Gilder  193 

Clinton  Stuart      .  211 

George  H.  Jessop   .         .  229 

Geo.  Edgar  Montgomery  247 

Walter  Herties  Pollock  265 

William  Winter  .         .  283 
301 


MISS  MARY  ANDERSON. 


Beautiful  lady  from  a  far-off  land, 
In  whose  fair  form  rejoicingly  we  trace 
The  loveliest  features  of  a  kindred  race 

That  bids  thee  welcome  with  an  outstretched  hand, 
Which  lingers  lovingly  in  clasped  embrace, 
Until  our  deep  emotions,  in  flushed  face, 

Thou  mayest  read,  and  reading  understand 
Our  passionate  love  of  purity  and  grace  ; 

Springing  spontaneous  from  thy  generous  heart  ! 

We  pray  Heaven  guard  thee  in  thy  noble  art. 
Where  art  is  lost ; —  made  so  to  intertwine 

With  purest  nature,  as  to  form  a  part 
Of  thine  own  being  —  as  entirely  thine 

That  but  one  word  expresseth  it  —  it  is  Divine  ! 

Francis  Bennoch. 


MISS  MARY  ANDERSON. 


Since  the  death  of  Charlotte  Cushman,  the  American 
stage  has  waited  for  an  actress  whose  aspiration  and 
endeavor  might  foreshadow  an  imperial  rule.  Women 
have  appeared  during  the  last  ten  years  who  have 
distinguished  themselves  in  certain  parts  and  won 
renown  in  the  portrayal  and  expression  of  certain 
emotions  ;  but  therein  were  equally  revealed  their 
powers  and  their  limitations.  The  manifold  attributes 
of  mind  and  character,  developed  by  serious  purpose 
into  a  noble  harmony,  have  not  been  clearly  exhibited 
on  our  stage  by  any  actress  of  recent  years.  To  say 
this  does  not  lessen  the  fame  of  any  artist  now  before 
the  public  ;  the  assertion  plucks  no  laurel  from  any 
deserving  brow.  I  have  said  that  actresses  have 
become  famous  through  certain  impersonations,  and 
I  am  well  aware  that  not  without  thought  and  study 
were  the  portraits  conceived  and  executed.  But  I  do 
not  regard  the  emotional  expert  as  entitled  to  come 
under  the  head  of  Richelieu's  phrase  of  "  entirely 
great."  Because  a  certain  actress,  for  instance,  has 
been  exceptionally  effective  as  Camille,  it  does  not  fol- 
low, I  think,  that  equal  identification  would  attend  a 
new  assumption.  Would  not  a  change  of  part  rather  be 
something  of  the  nature  of  a  fresh  experiment  ? — not 
the  assured  donning  of  a  becoming  mantle.  As  a  rule, 
it  is  the  opportunity  for  effective  realism  that  appeals 

3 


4  M/SS  MAR  Y  ANDERSON. 

to  the  dramatic  specialist,  and  just  so  far  as  the 
realistic  possibilities  of  any  given  part  accord  with  the 
ambition,  temperament,  and  unique  personality  of  the 
player,  so  far  will  be  the  measure  of  the  success.  It 
is  noticeable  that  the  performances  of  the  specialist 
afford  few,  if  any,  felicitous  contrasts.  The  acting  is 
likely  to  be  on  the  same  plane  of  thought,  feeling,  and 
expression,  and  it  compels  interest  and  admiration  by 
a  sustained  physical  and  emotional  strain.  I  may  be 
asked  if  the  oculist  and  surgeon  are  not  important 
adjuncts  to  the  medical  profession  ?  I  answer,  they 
are,  of  course  ;  but  then  we  never  expect  to  be  blind 
nor  to  have  a  limb  taken  off,  however  frequently  we 
know  we  may  need  the  doctor. 

The  achievements  of  the  actress  whose  name  heads 
this  paper  demand  a  consideration  far  beyond  my 
present  limits  ;  but  I  think  no  consideration  is  needed 
to  say  that  she  has  kindled  a  greater  hope  and  gives 
a  brighter  promise  than  any  American  actress  since 
the  death  of  Charlotte  Cushman.  Perhaps  she  it  is 
for  whom  the  stage  has  been  waiting.  Something  in 
her  early  aspiration ;  in  the  manner  of  her  first  ap- 
pearance ;  in  the  steps  by  which  she  has  advanced ; 
in  her  patient  yet  energetic  acquirement  of  the  details 
of  her  art ;  in  her  devotion  to  high  ideals ;  in  her 
refined  taste  and  nobleness  of  spirit  ;  in  her  pains- 
taking zeal ;  in  her  endowment  of  intelligence  and 
beauty  ;  in  her  self-respecting  nature  ; — something  in 
all  these  seems  to  point  to  a  bright  fulfilment  of  the 
present  hope  and  promise. 

Miss  Mary  Anderson  was  born  on  July  28,  1859. 
Her  birthplace  was  Sacramento,  California,  but  she 
was  still  an  infant  when  her  parents  moved  to  Ken- 


MISS   MARY  ANDERSON.  ^ 

tucky.  The  record  of  her  early  years  is  full  of 
interest  for  those  who  study  the  careers  of  women  of 
genius ;  and  it  may  be  noted  that  she  was  wayward 
and  restless  under  school  and  domestic  restraint. 
Her  nature  was  truthful,  her  disposition  such  as  to 
make  her  a  favorite  wherever  known,  and  she  seems 
to  have  been  the  idol  of  her  playmates.  It  is  con- 
fessed that  her  school-learning  was  of  small  account, 
and  her  conduct  under  tuition  often  refractory.  It 
was  on  leaving  school,  at  the  age  of  thirteen,  that  she 
began  to  study ;  but  her  book  was  Shakspere,  and 
the  poet  opened  the  gates  of  dream-land  to  her,  as 
he  has  to  so  many  others,  before  and  since.  We 
are  told  that  the  poet  was  an  education  to  her,  and 
that  her  intellectual  development  was  rapid.  The 
male  characters  of  Shakspere  interested  her  most  at 
this  time  ;  she  studied  with  ardor  the  parts  of  Hamlet, 
Romeo,  and  Richard  III.  ;  and  while  thus  engaged 
she  also  employed  herself  in  cultivating  her  voice. 
Her  passion  for  the  stage  seems  to  have  been  inborn, 
and  her  first  visit  to  the  theatre  was  an  event  which 
held  the  seal  of  destiny.  In  her  fourteenth  year  she 
saw  Edwin  Booth  in  Richard  III.,  and  the  per- 
formance, as  may  well  be  imagined,  was  a  revelation 
to  her.  Later  she  visited  Miss  Cushman,  and  received 
from  that  great  actress  an  encouraging  opinion  of  her 
powers,  accompanied  with  the  advice  to  place  herself 
in  study  and  training  for  another  year  before  making 
an  appearance  in  public.  This  advice  was  followed. 
For  dramatic  instructor  the  late  Mr.  Vandenhoff  was 
selected,  and  he  gave  her  ten  lessons,  which  is  said  to 
have  been  her  only  professional  training.  Her  first 
appearance  was  made  at  Macauley's  Theatre,  Louis- 


6  MISS   MARY  ANDERSON. 

ville,  on  Nov.  27,  1875,  in  the  character  of  Juliet,  the 
play-bill  reading  "  by  a  Louisville  Young  Lady."  It 
is  on  record  that  competent  judges  regarded  this  first 
performance  as  indicating  great  natural  talent.  From 
that  time  to  the  present  Miss  Anderson  has  steadily 
pursued  her  professional  path,  not  without  a  share 
of  the  vicissitudes  and  disappointments  that  beset  a 
theatrical  career,  and  her  progress  has  been  watched 
with  more  than  ordinary  interest  by  the  American 
theatre-going  public. 

Her  first  regular  engagement  was  at  the  Louisville 
Theatre,  in  the  January  following  her  debut,  and  in  the 
course  of  it  she  played  Evadne,  Bianca,  Julia,  and 
Juliet.  This  engagement  was  succeeded  by  her 
appearance  in  St.  Louis,  New  Orleans,  Washington, 
and  San  Francisco,  A  New  York  audience  welcomed 
her  for  the  first  time  on  Nov.  12,  1877,  when  she 
appeared  at  the  Fifth  Avenue  Theatre  as  Pauline,  in 
the  *  Lady  of  Lyons.'  She  successively  played 
Juliet,  Evadne,  Meg  Merrilies  and  Parthenia.  She 
made  a  first,  visit  to  Europe  in  1878  (not  a  profes- 
sional one),  returning  the  same  year,  and  playing 
again  at  the  Fifth  Avenue  Theatre  in  a  round  of  her 
chosen  parts. 

It  is  not  needful  to  chronicle  here  the  professional 
engagements  of  Miss  Anderson  from  year  to  year. 
Let  it  suffice  that  she  has  played  in  al!  the  principal 
cities  of  the  Union,  and  in  1883  made  a  second  visit 
to  Europe,  this  time  professionally,  where  she  re- 
mained until  the  autumn  of  1885,  adding  largely  to 
her  dramatic  laurels  by  her  performances  in  the 
United  Kingdom,  and  winning  great  popular  esteem 
by  her  personal  worth.     In  August  of  1885  she  played 


MISS   MARY  ANDERSON.  7 

Rosalind  {hex  first  appearance  in  that  character)  at 
Stratford-on-Avon,  for  the  benefit  of  the  Shakspere 
Memorial  Theatre,  and  the  proceeds  of  this  perform- 
ance may  be  seen  in  the  beautiful  sculptured  emblems 
of  Comedy  and  Tragedy  which  now  adorn  the  front  of 
the  Memorial  Hall  where  '  As  You  Like  It '  was 
acted.  On  Miss  Anderson's  return  to  her  native  land 
she  began  the  season  of  1885-6  with  Rosalind,  at  the 
Star  Theatre  in  New  York.  This  season,  which 
embraced  an  extended  tour  of  the  United  States, 
ended  in  May,  1886,  and  in  June  following  the  actress 
sailed  again  for  England. 

Eleven  years  have  passed  since  Miss  Anderson's 
first  appearance.  Her  progress  has  shown  a  steady 
increase  of  dramatic  comprehension  and  power,  and 
her  professional  life  has  been  marked  by  thoughtful 
study  and  conscientious  work.  She  has  added  to 
her  repertory  from  time  to  time,  and  her  list  of 
characters  presents  an  array  which  tested  many  of  her 
great  predecessors.  Free  and  beautiful,  she  stands 
before  us  as  the  foremost  American  actress,  and  her 
career  from  first  to  last,  viewed  in  whatever  light,  is 
one  of  which  we  have  every  reason  to  be  proud.  It  is 
worthy  of  all  regard  that  from  pure  and  sincere 
professional  devotion  Miss  Anderson  has  never 
swerved. 

But  the  time  has  not  yet  come  when  the  lists  may 
be  closed  and  the  crown  awarded.  Something  is  due 
to  tradition — to  famous  actresses  of  the  past  who 
found  the  path  to  fame  no  royal  road.  An  acute 
critic,  writing  in  1880  on  the  recognition  of  the 
increasing  merit  of  Miss  Anderson's  performances, 
after  a  summary  of  what  he  judged  were  her  merits 


8  MISS   MARY  ANDERSON. 

and  defects,  used  these  words  :  "  Here,  in  brief,  is 
more  tragic  impulse  than  human  tenderness  ;  more  of 
physical  strength  and  force  of  will  than  of  spiritual 
intensity  ;  more  of  the  ravishing  opulence  of  youth- 
ful womanhood  than  of  the  thrilling  frenzy  of  genius 
or  the  dominant  grandeur  of  intellectual  character. 
Yet,  what  a  wealth  of  natural  power  is  here  !  what 
glorious  promise !  what  splendid  possibilities  ! " 
Doubtless  many  of  the  lines  of  limitation  here  sug- 
gested have  been  obliterated  by  growth  and  develop- 
ment ;  but  Miss  Anderson  does  not  claim  to  be  a 
prodigy  and  will  be  willing  to  wait  for  those  teachings 
of  experience  that  have  their  part  in  rounding  and 
perfecting  all  human  effort.  Not  to  have  suffered  is 
a  lesson  of  life  missed.  The  "glorious  promise,"  the 
"splendid  possibilities,"  remain,  and  there  our  hope 
shall  rest. 

It  may  be  of  interest  to  place  on  record  Miss 
Anderson's  present  repertory :  Juliet,  in  '  Romeo 
and     Juliet ' ;    Evadne,     in     *  Evadne  '  ;    Bianca,    in 

*  Fazio ' ;  Julia,  in  the  '  Hunchback '  ;  Parthenia,   in 

*  Ingomar  '  ;  Pauline,  in  the  '  Lady  of  Lyons  '  ; 
Meg  Merrilies,  in  '  Guy  Mannering  '  ;  Lady  Macbeth, 
in  '  Macbeth  '  (sleep  scene)  ;  the  Countess,  in  *  Love  ' ; 
Duchess  de  Torrenucra,  in  '  Faint  Heart  Never  Won 
Fair  Lady '  ;  Ion,  in  '  Ion  '  ;  Galatea,  in  '  Pygmalion 
and  Galatea '  ;  Berthe,  in  '  Roland's  Daughter ' ; 
Desdemona,  in  '  Othello '  ;  Clarice,  in  *  Comedy  and 
Tragedy  ' ;  Rosalind,  in  '  As  You  Like  It.' 

William  L.  Keese. 


MISS   MARY  ANDERSON.  9 

We  can  scarcely  bring  ourselves  to  speak  of  the 
young  actress  who  came  before  the  footlights  last 
night,  with  the  coolness  of  a  critic  and  a  spectator. 
Our  interest  in  native  genius  and  young  endeavor,  in 
courage  and  brave  effort  that  arrives  from  so  near 
us — our  own  city — precludes  the  possibility  of  stand- 
ing outside  of  sympathy,  and  peering  in  with  analyz- 
ing and  judicial  glance.  But  we  do  not  think  that 
any  man  of  judgment  who  witnessed  Miss  Anderson's 
acting  of  Juliet,  can  doubt  that  she  is  a  great  actress. 
In  the  latter  scenes  she  interpreted  the  very  spirit 
and  soul  of  tragedy,  and  thrilled  the  whole  house  into 
silence  by  the  depth  of  her  passion  and  her  power. 
She  is  essentially  a  tragic  genius,  and  began  really  to 
act  only  after  the  scene  in  which  her  nurse  tells  Juliet 
of  what  she  supposes  is  her  lover's  death.  The  quick 
gasp,  the  terrified,  stricken  face,  the  tottering  step,  the 
passionate  and  heart-rending  accents  were  nature's 
own  marks  of  affecting  overwhelming  grief. 

Miss  Anderson  has  great  power  over  the  lower  tones 
of  her  rich  voice.  Her  whisper  electrifies  and  pene- 
trates ;  her  hurried  words  in  the  passion  of  the  scene 
where  she  drinks  the  sleeping  potion,  and  afterwards 
in  the  catastrophe  at  the  end,  although  very  far  below 
conversational  pitch,  came  to  the  ear  with  distinctness 
and  with  wonderful  effect.  In  the  final  scene  she 
reached  the  climax  of  her  acting,  which,  from  the 
time  of  Tybalt's  death  to  the  end,  was  full  of  tragic 
power  that  we  have  never  seen  equalled.  It  will  be 
observed  that  we  have  placed  the  merit  of  this 
actress  (in  our  opinion)  for  the  most  part  in  her 
deeper  and  more  sombre  powers,  and  despite  the  high 
praise  that  we  more  gladly  offer  as  her  due,  we  can- 


lO  MISS   MARY    ANDERSON. 

not  be  blind  to  her  faults  in  the  presentation  of  last 
evening.  She  is,  undoubtedly,  a  great  actress,  and 
last  night  evidenced  a  magnificent  genius,  more  espe- 
cially remarkable  on  account  of  her  extreme  youth  ; 
but  whether  she  is  a  great  Juliet  is,  indeed,  more 
doubtful.  We  can  imagine  her  as  personating  Lady 
Macbeth  superbly,  and  hope  soon  to  witness  her  in  the 
part.  As  Juliet,  her  conception  is  almost  perfect,  as 
evinced  by  her  rare  and  exceptional  taste  and  intui- 
tive understanding  of  the  text.  But  her  enactment  of 
the  earlier  scenes  lacks  the  exuberance  and  earnest 
joyfulness  of  the  pure  and  glowing  Flower  of  Italy, 
with  all  her  fanciful  conceits  and  delightful  and  lov- 
ing ardor. 

The  Louisville  Courier,  Nov.  28,  1875. 

Not  long  afterwards  Mary  Anderson's  dramatic 
powers  were  submitted  to  the  critical  judgment  of 
Miss  Cushraan.  The  great  actress,  then  in  the  zenith 
of  her  fame,  was  residing  not  far  distant,  at  Cincinnati. 
Accompanied  by  her  mother,  Mary  presented  herself 
at  Miss  Cushman's  hotel.  They  happened  to  meet  in 
the  vestibule.  The  veteran  actress  took  the  young 
aspirant's  hand  with  her  accustomed  vigorous  grasp, 
to  which  Mary,  not  to  be  outdone,  nerved  herself  to 
respond  in  kind  ;  and  patting  her  at  the  same  time 
affectionately  on  the  cheek,  invited  her  to  read  before 
her  on  an  early  morning.  When  Miss  Cushman  had 
entered  her  waiting  carriage,  Mary  Anderson,  with  her 
wonted  veneration  for  what  pertained  to  the  stage, 
begged  that  she  might  be  allowed  to  be  the  first  to  sit 
in  the  chair  that  had  been  occupied  for  a  few  moments 
by  the  great  actress.     Miss  Cushman's  verdict  was 


MISS   MARY  ANDERSON.  II 

highly  favorable.  "  You  have,"  she  said,  "  three 
essential  requisites  for  the  stage  :  voice,  personality, 
and  gesture.  With  a  year's  longer  study  and  some 
training,  you  may  venture  to  make  an  appearance 
before  the  public."  Miss  Cushman  recommended 
that  she  should  take  lessons  from  the  younger  Van- 
denhoff,  who  was  at  the  time  a  successful  character 
teacher  in  New  York.  A  year  from  that  date  occurred 
the  actress's  lamented  death,  almost  on  the  very  day 
of  Mary  Anderson's  dSut. 

J.  M.  Farrar  :  '  Mary  Anderson  :  the  Story  of  her 
Life,'  chap.  2,  pp.  13-14. 

Her  works  are  growing  in  symmetry — but  neither 
in  unity  nor  in  splendor.  She  still  [March,  1880] 
wins  as  a  beauty,  impresses  as  a  prodigy,  and  startles 
as  a  genius.  The  word  has  not  yet  been  spoken 
which  is  to  give  her  soul  its  entire  freedom,  arm  it 
with  all  its  powers,  and  make  the  forms  of  art  the 
slaves  of  her  will.  The  triumph  of  Miss  Anderson 
now  is  the  triumph  of  an  exceptional  personality 
shrined  in  a  beautiful  person,  but  not  yet  the  triumph 
of  a  consummate  actress. 

With  a  superb  voice,  here  is  a  defective  elocution  ; 
with  a  magnificent  figure,  hefe  is  a  self-conscious 
manner  in  the  attitudes  ;  with  a  noble  freedom  and 
suppleness  of  physical  machinery,  here  is  a  capricious 
gesticulation  ;  with  a  full  and  fine  sense  of  opportu- 
nity for  strong  and  shining  points,  here  is  but  an 
incipient  perception  of  the  relative  value  of  surround- 
ing characters  and  the  coordination  of  adjuncts  ; 
with  a  brilliant  faculty  for  stormy  and  vehement 
declamation,  here,  as  yet,  is  an  imperfect  idea  of  the 


12  MISS   MARY  ANDERSON. 

loveliness  of  quiet  touches,  verbal  shading,  and  sug- 
gestive strokes  ;  with  a  vigorous,  and  often  grand, 
manner  of  address,  here  is  a  frequent  lack  of  concen- 
tration in  listening  ;  with  wonderful  intuitions  as  to 
the  wilder  moods  of  human  passion,  here  is  a  restricted 
sympathy  with  the  more  elemental  feelings — from 
which  naturally  ensues  a  certain  vagueness  in  the 
effect  of  their  manifestation.  Here,  in  brief,  is  more 
tragic  impulse  than  human  tenderness  ;  more  of 
physical  strength  and  force  of  will  than  of  spiritual 
intensity  ;  more  of  the  ravishing  opulence  of  youthful 
womanhood  than  of  the  thrilling  frenzy  of  genius  or 
the  dominant  grandeur  of  intellectual  character. 
Yet,  what  a  wealth  of  natural  power  is  here  !  What 
glorious  promise  !     What  splendid  possibilities  ! 

William  Winter  :  The  *  Stage  Life  of  Mary 
Anderson,'  chap,  i,  pp.  30-2. 

Now,  as  to  the  acting.  You  will  at  once  ask  me 
how  is  it  possible  for  any  one  to  adequately  represent 
the  part  of  an  intensely  virtuous,  highly  respectable 
and  honorable  couple,  of  whom  one,  the  wife,  plays 
the  part  of  the  decoy,  and  the  other,  the  husband, 
the  rdle  of  a  bully  ?  A  virtuous  and  respectable  Becky 
Sharp  is  a  contradiction  in  terms  ;  but  Miss  Mary 
Anderson  having  chosen  the  part  for  herself,  plays 
it,  and  assumes  the  responsibility  of  the  interpreta- 
tion. 

She  looks  it  to  perfection,  and  from  a  certain  point 
of  view,  which  must  be  her  own,  or  she  would  not 
have  selected  the  piece,  plays  it  admirably.  I  can 
imagine  what  Sarah  Bernhardt  would  have  done 
with  it,  but  she  could  never  have  enlisted  the  sym- 


ATISS   MARV  ANDERSON.  13 

pathies  of  the  audience  as  an  honest  wife  ;  but  the 
actress  who  can  enlist  the  sympathies  of  the  audience 
by  acting  as  a  Lucretia  could  but  imperfectly  portray 
the  seductive  caresses  of  a  Phryne.  Miss  Anderson 
sacrifices  the  Phryne  to  the  Lucretia,  and  her  con- 
sistently impossible  character  is  entirely  in  keeping 
with  the  utterly  artificial  and  purely  theatrical  situa- 
tion. The  recitation  with  which  Clarice  attempts  to 
entertain  her  sprawling  guests  (it  must  have  been 
the  dullest  party  conceivable)  has  been  ingeniously 
devised  and  cleverly  written.  It  is  at  once  the  tour 
de  force  of  both  author  and  actress. 
Punch,  London,  Feb.  9,  1884. 

In  *  Ingomar,'  Miss  Anderson  was  instinct  with  force 
and  with  simplicity.  She  had  just  the  delicate  yet 
firm  touch  which  the  character  in  its  main  lines  de- 
mands ;  and  it  is  a  character  made  up  for  the  most 
part  of  broad  outlines.  Yet  here  and  there  comes  a 
passage  where  fine  shading  is  wanted  ;  and  such  a 
passage  is  the  rejection  of  the  tricky  Polydor's  suit. 
Then  Miss  Anderson  was  absolutely,  hopelessly  as  it 
seemed,  at  fault.  She  had  to  reject  the  disgusting  old 
man  with  a  laugh,  and  the  impression  produced  was 
that  the  actress  had  learned  a  laugh, — not  the  laugh 
necessary  for  the  circumstances  and  situation,  but 
simply  a  laugh, — and  that  she  reproduced  this  echo 
of  an  abstract  laugh  with  an  accuracy  which  made  its 
sound  all  the  more  incongruous  and  insincere.  Also, 
— but  this  is  a  fault  of  a  different  kind, — the  diction 
was  frequently  very  indistinct.  Yet,  with  all  faults 
admitted,  the  acting  was  full  both  of  promise  and  of 
performance,  and  of  broad  conviction  that  Miss  Ander- 


14  MISS   MARY  ANDERSON. 

son  had  won  the  admiration  of  American  audiences 
by  something  more  than  beauty  and  grace  alone. 

So,  again,  in  the  *  Lady  of  Lyons,'  an  eminently 
artificial  piece,  with  an  eminently  artificial  heroine's 
part.  Miss  Anderson  was  graceful,  statuesque,  intelli- 
gent, or  more  than  intelligent  and  charming.  But 
there  was,  so  far,  nothing  to  show  whether  she  had  a 
claim  to  be  considered  as  an  actress  in  the  true  gense 
of  the  word.  If  her  power  of  impersonation  seemed 
faulty,  or  even  altogether  wanting,  why,  that  might  be 
the  fault  of  the  plays  rather  than  of  the  player. 

Then  Miss  Anderson  appeared  as  the  vivified  statue 
in  Mr.  Gilbert's  *  Pygmalion  and  Galatea,' — one  of 
the  very  vulgarest  and  commonest  plays  ever  written 
by  an  author  of  cleverness  ;  and  in  this  she  set  her- 
self  a  hard  task.  The  result  of  the  experiment  is  the 
spectacle  of  a  lady,  gifted  with  singular  grace  and  ear- 
nestness, delivering  lines  which  are  anything  rather 
than  graceful  with  a  manner  so  opposed  to  the  whole 
notion  of  the  piece  that  the  effect  is  indescribably  odd. 
It  is  as  if  a  pretty  and  harmless  tenor  were  suddenly 
to  attempt  some  swaggering  baritone,  without  a  per- 
ception of  the  swaggering  element.  This  is,  however, 
a  merely  general  impression.  Going  into  particulars, 
I  find  that  wherever  Mr.  Gilbert  has  been  unable  or 
uncareful  to  coarsen  the  beautiful  legend,  and  wher- 
ever trusting  to  a  fine  and  simple  perception  of  the 
legend's  poetry  is  enough  for  the  acting's  needs,  there 
Miss  Anderson  is  charming,  and  singularly  charming. 
Such  a  moment  is  the  first  awakening  of  the  statue, 
which  could  hardly  be  bettered  in  voice,  manner,  or 
look.  But  when  the  complex  emotions  come  into  play, 
then,  even  when  one  makes  fullest  allowance  for  the 


MISS   MARY  ANDERSON;  1$ 

common  and  stupid  inconsistencies  attributed  by  Mr. 
Gilbert  to  the  statue,  and  for  an  actress's  difficulty  in 
glossing  over  their  stupidity,  I  think  Miss  Anderson 
fails  for  want  of  perception,  and  for  want  of  "  instruc- 
tion "  in  the  French,  rather  than  the  English,  sense  of 
the  word.  Here  she  underplays  and  there  she  over- 
plays her  difficult  part.  .  .  .  The  very  first  scene  and 
the  very  last  are,  to  my  thinking,  out  of  eight,  the  best, 
so  far  as  Mi.ss  Anderson  is  concerned.  But  the  fact 
remains  that  when  all  its  faults  are  counted  up,  the 
performance  has  charm  and,  I  think,  talent  which 
might  become  very  remarkable  if  its  possessor  were 
not  in  great  danger  of  being  spoilt  by  unthinking 
applause. 

Walter  Herries  Pollock,  in  the  Century  Maga- 
zine,  June,  1884. 

Miss  Anderson's  Rosalind  deserves  much  praise. 
She  looked  and  did  her  best.  In  appearance  she 
nearly  realized  Lodge's  glowing  description  of  his 
Rosalynde  :  "  All  in  general  applauded  the  admirable 
riches  that  Nature  bestowed  on  her  face."  When  she 
was  disguised  in  buff  jerkin  and  hose  as  Ga?iymede, 
it  was  impossible  to  do  other  than  commend  Phmbe's 
fickleness.  Miss  Anderson's  faults  are  well-known, 
and  many  of  them  were  still  present.  Her  pathos  in 
the  early  scenes  sounded  artificial.  The  proud  scorn 
with  which  she  replied  to  Duke  Frederick's  accusation 
of  treason  was  the  only  speech  in  the  first  act  which 
she  delivered  with  any  approach  to  real  feeling.  In 
the  forest  scenes  she  appeared  to  far  better  advan- 
tage. In  her  interviews  with  Orlando  she  proved  her- 
self in  sympathy  with  the,  spirit  of  the  comedy  :  full 


1 6  MISS   MARY  ANDERSON. 

of  youthful  vivacity,  she  kept  well  within  the  limits  of 
womanly  reserve.  She  bantered  Phoebe  with  the  crud- 
est ease,  but  her  manner  as  the  mocking  censor  of  the 
rustic  coquette  was  quite  free  from  the  touches  of 
anxiety  which  she  sought — often  successfully — to  im- 
part to  her  raillery  of  her  lover.  Miss  Anderson 
delivered  the  epilogue  with  great  naturalness  and 
spirit,  and  dismissed  her  audience  in  the  best  of 
humors. 

Sidney  L.  Lee,  in  the  Academy,  London,  Sept.  5, 
1885. 

It  is  not  three  years  since  Miss  Mary  Anderson  first 
came  among  us,  a  young  American  girl,  heralded  only 
by  undeniable  evidence  (the  sun  being  witness)  of  her 
striking  beauty,  and  conflicting  rumors  as  to  her 
talent.  She  is  now  returning  to  her  native  land  an 
artistic  and  social  notability  of  the  first  magnitude. 
Her  success  is  all  the  more  remarkable — certainly  all 
the  more  creditable — in  that  it  has  been  gained  entirely 
by  her  own  unaided  efforts  in  the  art  she  professes. 
She  had  no  social  notoriety  to  launch  her  on  her 
career,  nor  did  she  take  any  pains  to  acquire  it.  She 
shunned  rather  than  courted  personal  publicity.  She 
did  not  ride  on  fire-engines  or  sleep  in  coffins.  Scan- 
dal, even  in  this  malevolent  world,  held  aloof  from 
her,  and  if  silly  gossip  now  and  then  gave  her  "  the 
puif  oblique,"  it  was  without  her  connivance  and  to 
her  no  small  discomfort.  It  may  even  be  said  that 
she  was  deliberately  and  injudiciously  contemptuous 
of  all  personal  means  of  propitiation.  To  some  peo- 
ple, unable  to  dissociate  the  two  ideas  of  "  dramatic 
artist"  and   "eccentric  bohemian,"  her  attitude   ap- 


MISS   MARY  ANDERSON.  1? 

peared  unwarrantably  repellent,  and  she  suffered  in 
more  ways  than  one  from  a  certain  unapproachable- 
ness  which  was  construed  as  the  feminine  form  of  that 
foible  which  in  the  stronger  sex  we  call  priggishness. 
Even  criticism  was  not  unaffected  by  this  feeling,  and 
she  was  treated,  I  do  not  say  with  injustice,  but  cer- 
tainly with  scant  cordiality.  She  has  won  the  public 
with  little  help  from  the  press,  and  that,  in  these  days, 

is  of  itself  a  remarkable  achievement 

Let  us  pass,  then,  to  Miss  Anderson's  latest  and 
most  interesting  effort — her  Rosalind.  The  critics  who 
criticise  before  the  event  were  full  of  doubts  as  to  her 
capacity  for  comedy.  Juliefs  scene  with  the  Nurse 
should  have  banished  any  such  doubt.  It  proved 
Miss  Anderson's  possession  of  a  fund  of  delicate 
playfulness  which  could  not  but  stand  her  in  good 
stead  in  the  part  of  the  sprightly  Ganymede.  This 
quality  was,  indeed,  apparent  throughout ;  but,  as 
Lady  Martin  remarks,  it  is  a  **  strange  perversion  "  to 
suppose  that  Rosalind  can  be  adequately  performed 
by  actresses  "  whose  strength  lies  only  in  comedy." 
There  is  in  her  a  "  deep  womanly  tenderness,"  and  an 
"  intellect  disciplined  by  fine  culture,"  which  must  be 
made  apparent  through  all  her  sportive  vivacity.  In 
the  "  deep  womanly  tenderness  "  Miss  Anderson  was, 
perhaps,  a  little  lacking.  Her  Rosalind  was  girlish 
rather  than  womanly,  but  it  was  so  brightly,  frankly, 
healthily  girlish  that  to  have  quarrelled  with  it  would 
have  been  sheer  captiousness.  In  the  opening  scenes 
(it  must  be  remembered  that  I  speak  of  her  first  per- 
formance of  the  part,  a  most  trying  occasion)  she  had 
not  altogether  warmed  to  her  work,  though  even  here 
she  was  intelligent  and  charming.     Her  speech  to  the 


1 8  MISS  MARY   ANDERSOM. 

Duke,  culminating  in  the  line,  "  What's  that  to  me  ? 
My  father  was  no  traitor  !  "  showed  traces  of  her  early 
and  unpolished  manner.  It  lacked  nobility  and  lofti- 
ness. Its  indignation  was  too  loud.  It  was  invective 
rather  than  self-restrained  and  scathing  sarcasm.  Not 
till  she  appeared  in  the  first  forest  scene  was  Miss 
Anderson's  success  assured,  but  then  a  very  few 
speeches  placed  it  beyond  question.  Her  appearance 
was  ideal.  No  actress  whom  I  have  seen  in  Rosalind, 
or  indeed  in  any  "  doublet  and  hose "  part,  wears 
these  trying  garments  with  anything  like  the  ease,  grace 
and  perfect  good  taste  displayed  by  Miss  Anderson. 
In  most  Rosalinds  the  woman  obtrudes  herself  upon 
the  physical  as  well  as  the  mental  eye.  We  cannot 
get  rid  of  the  feeling  that  Orlando  must  inevitably  see 
through  this  masquerade  from  the  very  first.  In  Miss 
Anderson's  case  we  meet  with  no  such  stumbling- 
block.  A  cleverly-designed  costume,  modest  without 
prudery,  combined  with  her  lithe,  well-knit  and  in  no 
way  redundant  figure  to  make  her  a  perfect  embodi- 
ment of  the  "  saucy  lackey."  Her  beauty,  which  is 
essentially  feminine,  was  the  only  circumstance  which 
need  have  made  Orlando  suspect  the  woman  in  her,  if 
(to  oblige  Shakspere)  we  suppose  it  possible  that  he 
should  fail  to  recognize  her  as  the  identical  Rosalind 
of  the  wrestling-match.  Her  claret-colored  mantle, 
exquisitely  handled,  gave  her  the  means  for  much 
significant  by-play  through  which  she  prevented  the 
audience  from  forgetting  her  sex,  without  in  any  way 
suggesting  it  to  Orlando.  Its  tastefulness  was  per- 
haps the  great  charm  of  her  Rosalind. 

William  Archer,  in  the  Theatre,  October,  1885. 


MR.  AND  MRS.  BANCROFT. 

(Miss  Marie  Wilton.) 


19 


Dramatic  flowers  they  gathered  by  the  way, 
And  chose  the  brightest  wheresoe'er  it  grows  ; 

Never  disdaining  to  contrast  in  play, 
French  tiger-lily  with  the  English  rose. 

With  kindly  Robertson  they  formed  a  '  School,* 
Rejoiced  in  *  Play  '  after  long  anxious  hours  ; 

'  Caste  '  was  for  them,  and  theirs,  a  golden  rule. 
And  thus  by  principle  we  made  them  '  Ours.' 

Clement  Scott. 


20 


MR.  AND  MRS.  BANCROFT. 


Marie  Effie  Wilton,  known  since  her  marriage  as 
Mrs.  Bancroft,  was  born  at  Doncaster  about  1840. 
Her  father  and  mother  were  both  on  the  stage,  and 
when  little  more  than  an  infant  she  used  to  recite  in 
public.  After  playing  children's  parts  on  the  Nor- 
wich circuit,  she  was  engaged  with  her  parents,  at  the 
Theatre  Royal,  Manchester,  then  managed  by  H. 
J.  Wallack,  where  she  appeared,  Oct.  5,  1846,  as 
Fleance  in  *  Macbeth.'  She  remained  for  some  years 
in  Manchester,  playing,  among  other  parts,  GonerWs 
page  in  '  King  Lear,'  Matnilius  in  the  '  Winter's 
Tale,'  the  Emperor  of  Lilliput  in  a  pantomime  of 
'  Gulliver,'  Hymen  in  '  As  You  Like  It,'  and  Arthur 
in  '  King  John,' — a  part  in  which  Charles  Kemble  saw 
and  admired  her.  P'rom  Manchester,  she  passed,  while 
yet  a  child,  to  the  Bristol  and  Bath  circuit,  and  did 
not  make  her  first  appearance  in  London  until  Sept. 
15, 1856,  when  she  played  the  boy  Henri  to  Mr.  Charles 
Dillon's  Belphegor,  at  the  Lyceum,  and  on  the  same 
evening  created  the  title-part  in  W.  Brough's  bur- 
lesque '  Perdita  ;  or  the  Royal  Milkmaid.'*  Her  success 
was  immediate,  and  she  was  soon  in  great  request. 

*  Mr.  J.  L.  Toole  played  Hilarion  Fanfaronade  in  the  drama 
and  Autolycus  in  the  burlesque. 

21 


12  MR.    AND    MRS.    BANCROFT. 

At  the  Lyceum  she  played  the  Little  Fairy  at  the 
Bottom  of  the  Sea  in  W.  Brough's  '  Conrad  and 
Medora'  (Dec.  26,  1856)  ;  at  the  Haymarket  Cupid 
in  Talfourd's  '  Atalanta '  (April  13,1857)  ;  and  at  the 
Adelphi  Cupid  in  the  pantomime  of  *  Cupid  and 
Psyche  '  (Dec.  26,  1857).  She  remained  a  member  of 
the  Adelphi  Company  under  Webster's  management 
until  the  demolition  of  the  theatre  (last  performance, 
June  2,  1858),  and  afterwards  played  with  Webster 
and  Madame  Celeste  at  the  Surrey  and  Sadler's  Wells. 
On  July  26,  1858,  she  made  her  first  appearance  at  the 
Strand  Theatre  as  Carlo  Broschi  in  '  Asmodeus  ;  or 
The  Little  Devil.'  The  Strand  was  now  her  head- 
quarters for  six  years  (until  December,  1864).  She 
formed  one  of  the  chief  attractions  of  the  series  of 
burlesques,  then  so  unflaggingly  popular.  Her  Pippo 
in  H.  J.  Byron's  'Maid  and  the  Magpie'  (Oct.  11, 
1858),  finally  established  her  reputation.  On  Dec, 
17,  1858,  Charles  Dickens  wrote  to  Forster  : — "  I  .  .  . 
went  to  the  Strand  Theatre,  having  taken  a  stall  be- 
forehand, for  it  is  always  crammed,  I  really  wish  you 
would  go  between  this  and  next  Thursday,  to  see 
the  *  Maid  and  the  Magpie  '  burlesque  there.  There 
is  the  strangest  thing  in  it  that  ever  I  have  seen  on 
the  stage, — the  boy,  Pippo,  by  Miss  Wilton.  While 
it  is  astonishingly  impudent  (must  be,  or  it  couldn't 
be  done  at  all),  it  is  so  stupendously  like  a  boy,  and 
unlike  a  woman,  that  it  is  perfectly  free  from  offence, 
I  never  have  seen  such  a  thing.  Priscilla  Horton,  as 
a  boy,  not  to  be  thought  of  beside  it.  ...  I  call  her 
the  cleverest  girl  I  have  ever  seen  on  the  stage  in  my 
time,  and  the  most  singularly  original."  After  Pippo, 
her  principal  parts  at  the  Strand  were  Sir  Walter  Ra- 


MR.    AXD    MRS.    BANCROFT.  23 

leigh  in  Halliday's  '  Kenilworth'  (1858),  Juliet*  in 
Halliday's  '  Romeo  and  Juliet'  (1859),  Albert  in  Tal- 
fourd's  *  Tell '  (1859),  Karl  in  Byron  and  Talfourd's 
'  Miller  and  his  Men '  (i860),  Aladdin  in  Byron's 
'Aladdin'  (1861),  Pierre  Gringoire  in  Byron's  'Es- 
meralda' (1861),  Miles-na-Coppaleen  in  Byron's  '  Miss 
Eily  O'Connor'  (1862),  Orpheus  in  Byron's  '  Orpheus 
and  Eurydice'  (1863),  and  Mazourka  in  Byron's 
Mazourka'  (1864).  During  a  short  break  in  her  con- 
nection with  the  Strand  Theatre  she  appeared  at  the 
St.  James's  (Easter  Monday,  1863)  as  Geordie  Robert- 
son in  the  *  Great  Sensation  Trial  ;  or  Circumstantial 
Effie  Deans,'  by  W,  Brough  ;  and  at  the  St.  James's 
and  the  Adelphi,  as  well  as  at  the  Strand,  she  oc- 
casionally played  in  comediettas,  such  as  the  '  Little 
Treasure,'  '  A  Grey  Mare,'  the  '  Little  Sentinel,'  and 
'  Good  for  Nothing.' 

In  the  winter  of  1864-5  Miss  Wilton  conceived  the 
idea  of  entering  into  partnership  with  Mr.  H.  J. 
Byron  in  the  management  of  a  theatre  ;  and  while  this 
project  was  maturing  it  so  happened  that  she  paid  a 
starring  visit  to  the  Prince  of  Wales's  Theatre,  Liver- 
pool, where  her  future  husband  was  then  appearing. 
Mr.  Squire  Bancroft  Bancroft  was  born  in  London 
May  14,  1841,  and  joined  the  dramatic  profession  at 
the  Theatre  Royal,  Birmingham,  in  January,  1861. 
He  served  his  apprenticeship  in  Birmingham,  Dublin 
and  Liverpool,  supporting  such  stars  as  G.  V.  Brooke, 
Phelps,  Charles  Kean,  Charles  James  Mathews   and 


*  On  April  18,  1864,  Miss  Wilton  play eA  Juliet  in  Shakspere's 
Balcony  Scene,  to  the  Romeo  of  Miss  Ada  Swanborough,  for  the 
benefit  of  the  Shakspere  Tercentenary  Fund  ;  a  performance 
which  was  so  well  received  that  it  was  repeated  for  eight  nights. 


24  MR.  AND  MRS.   BANCROFT. 

Sothern,  and  playing  in  such  diverse  parts  as  Menutto, 
the  Ghost  in  '  Hamlet,'  Laertes,  Gratiano,  Bob  Brierly, 
John  Mtldmay,  Captain  Hawkesley  and  Mo?isieur 
Tourbillon.  His  ability  so  impressed  Mr.  Byron  and 
Miss  Wilton  that  they  offered  him  an  engagement, 
and  he  made  his  first  appearance  in  London  on  the 
first  night  of  their  management. 

The  theatre  in  Tottenham  Street,  Tottenham  Court 
Road,  which  was  ultimately  to  become  famous  as  the 
birthplace  of  cup-and-saucer  comedy,  had  existed  as 
a  playhouse  since  1810,  under  the  successive  names 
of  the  Theatre  of  Variety,  the  Regency  Theatre,  the 
West  London  Theatre,  the  Fitzroy  Theatre  and  the 
Queen's  Theatre.  After  ruining  several  lessees,  it  was 
taken  in  1839  by  Mr.  C.  J.  James,  a  scenic  artist,  who 
succeeded  in  keeping  it  going  for  more  than  twenty- 
five  years  with  entertainments  of  the  most  unam- 
bitious order.  It  was  from  him  that  the  new  lessees 
rented  it,  and  he  still  figured  for  a  time  on  the  bills 
as  "actual  and  responsible  manager." 

On  Saturday,  April  15,  1865,  the  reconstructed 
Queen's  Theatre,  renamed  the  Prince  of  Wales's,  was 
opened  under  the  management  of  Miss  Marie  Wilton. 
The  bill  consisted  of  J.  P.  Wooler's  comedy  '  A 
Winning  Hazard  '  (Mr.  Bancroft  playing  Jack  Crow- 
ley') ;  Byron's  burlesque  of  '  La  Sonnambula  ;  or  the 
Supper,  the  Sleeper  and  the  Merry  Swiss  Boy,'  with 
Miss  Wilton  in  the  part  of  Alessio  ;  and  Troughton's 
farce  of  'Vandyke  Brown.'  The  original  intention 
of  the  management  was  to  rely  upon  light  comedy 
and  burlesque.  During  the  first  season  Palgrave 
Simpson's  two-act  drama,  '  A  Fair  Pretender '  and 
H.  J.  Byron's  *  War  to  the  Knife  '  were  produced,  Mr. 


MR.    AND    MRS.    BANCROFT.  25 

Bancroft  making  his  first  noteworthy  success  as 
Captain  Thistleton  in  Byron's  comedy.  The  second 
season  opened  (Sept.  25,  1865)  with  *  Naval  Engage- 
ments'  and  Byron's  'Lucia  di  Lammermoor.'  Six 
weeks  later,  however,  a  play  was  produced  which, 
with  its  successors,  was  destined  to  expel  burlesque 
from  the  Prince  of  Wales's  stage  and  to  establish  a 
new  method  in  authorship,  decoration  and  acting. 
During  the  five  years  and  a  half  which  intervened 
between  the  first  performance  of  *  Society '  and  the 
death  of  Mr.  T.  W.  Robertson,  that  genial  play- 
wright was  practically  the  sole  caterer  of  the  Prince 
of  Wales's,  his  comedies  steadily  increasing  in  popu- 
larity. From  this  point  onwards  the  history  of  the 
Bancroft  management  may  be  most  shortly  and  con- 
veniently set  forth  in  the  form  of  annals.  That  form 
I  consequently  adopt,  premising  that  allowance  must 
be  made  in  each  year  for  a  summer  vacation  varying 
in  length  from  a  few  days  to  several  weeks  and  even 
months. 

1865:  Nov.  II,  Robertson's  'Society' — Mr.  Ban- 
croft, Sydney  Daryl*  Miss  Wilton,  Maud  Hcthering- 
ton — ran  over  150  nights  ;  Christmas,  Byron's  '  Little 
Don  Giovanni,'  in  which  Miss  Wilton  created  her  last 
burlesque  part. 

1866:  May  5,  Byron's  'A  Hundred  Thousand 
Pounds';  Sept.  15,  Robertson's  'Ours' — Mr.  Ban- 
croft, Angus  McAlister,  Miss  Wilton,  Mary  Netley — 
followed  by  '  Pas  de  Fascination,*  in  which  Miss 
Lydia  Thompson  appeared  ;  Oct  10,  Byron's  '  Der 
Freyschiitz  ;     or  the  Bell,  the    Bill  and  the  Ball  '  ; 

*  In  the  revivals  of  '  .Society'  and  '  Ours  '  Mr.  Bancroft  always 
played  Tom  Styhil  and  Htigk  Chalcot, 


26  MR.   AND    MRS.    BANCROFT. 

Christmas,  Byron's  '  Pandora's  Box,"  the  last  bur- 
lesque produced,  Mr.  Byron  shortly  afterwards  resign- 
ing his  share  in  the  management. 

1867  :  April  6,  Robertson's  *  Caste  ' — Mr.  Bancroft, 
Captain  Hawtree,  Miss  Wilton,  Polly  Eccles  j  Dec. 
21,  Dion  Boucicault's  *  How  She  Loves  Him  '  and 

*  Box  and  Cox,'  played  by  Mr.  John  Hare  and  Mr. 
George  Honey.  On  Saturday,  Dec.  28,  Mr.  Bancroft 
and  Miss  Marie  Wilton  were  married  at  the  church  of 
St.  Stephen  the  Martyr,  Avenue  Road,  St.  John's 
Wood. 

1868  :  Feb.  15,  Robertson's  *  Play  ' — Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Bancroft,  the  Chevalier  Browne  and  Rosie  Fanquehere 
— ran    107   nights  ;  in   June   and    July,  a    revival  of 

*  Caste  ' ;  *  in  the  autumn  season,  a  revival  of  '  Society' ; 
and  Dec.  12,  Edward  Yates's  'Tame  Cats' — Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Bancroft,  Mortimer  Wedgewood  and  Mrs. 
Langley. 

1869  :  Jan.  16,  Robertson's  '  School ' — Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Bancroft,  Jack  Poyntz  and  Naomi  Tighe.  Ran 
for  381  nights  with  only  one  interruption  of  11  nights, 
during  which  the  theatre  was  entirely  re-decorated,  the 
orchestra  being  placed  beneath  the  stage. 

1870  :  April  23,  Robertson's  *  M.  P.  ' — Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Bancroft,  Talbot  Piers  and  Cecilia  Dunscombe  j  it 
ran  for  about  six  months.  This  was  the  last  in  order 
of  the  Robertsonian  comedies.  It  was  followed  by 
revivals  of  *  Ours  '  and  *  Caste,'  which  proved  even 
more  attractive  than  on  their  first  production  ;  and 


*  In  the  case  of  revivals  of  pieces  previously  produced  or  re- 
vived under  the  Bancroft  management,  the  absence  of  any  state- 
ment to  the  contrary  implies  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bancroft  resumed 
the  parts  last  played  by  thenj. 


MR.  AIVD   MRS.   BANCROFT.  27 

while  his  work  was  thus  at  the  height  of  its  popularity 
Mr.  T.  W.  Robertson  died,  Feb.  4,  187 1.  During  the 
next  five  years  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bancroft  were  engaged 
in  a  strenuous  endeavor  to  keep  their  stage  supplied 
with  English  plays,  new  and  old.  It  was  not  until 
1876  that  they  yielded  to  circumstances  and  produced 
the  first  of  the  adaptations  from  the  French  which 
have  so  often  subjected  them  to  a  charge  of  lack  of 
patriotism.     I  now  resume  my  tabular  statement  : — 

1872:  May  6,  a  revival  of  'Money' — Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Bancroft,  Sir  F.  Blount  and  Georgina  Vesey. 

1873  :  Feb.  22,  Wilkie  Collins's  '  Man  and  Wife  '— 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bancroft,  Dr.  Speediuell  and  Blanche 
Lundie  j  Sept.  20,  a  revival  of  *  School.' 

1874 :  April  4,  a  revival  of  the  *  School  for  Scan- 
dal ' — Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bancroft,  Joseph  Surface  and 
Lady  Teazle  ;  Nov.  7,  W.  S.  Gilbert's  '  Sweethearts  ' 
— Mrs.  Bancroft,  Jenny  JVorthcott,  Mr.  Coghlan,  Harry 
Spreadbrow  ;  and  revival  of  *  Society,'  Mrs.  Bancroft 
relinquishing  the  part  of  Maud  to  Miss  Fanny 
Josephs. 

1875  :  April  17,  a  revival  of  the  *  Merchant  of 
Venice ' — Mr.  Coghlan,  Shylock,  Miss  Ellen  Terry, 
Portia,  Mr.  Bancroft,  the  Prince  of  Morocco — this 
production  was  a  disastrous  failure  ;  May  29,  a  re- 
vival of  '  Money ' — Mrs.  Bancroft,  Lady  Franklin, 
Miss  Ellen  Terry,  Clara  Douglass;  Nov.  6,  a  re- 
vival of  '  Masks  and  Faces  ' — Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bancroft, 
Triplet  and  Peg  Woffington,  Miss  Ellen  Terry,  Mabel 
Vane. 

1876  :  April  13,  Byron's  *  Wrinkles  ' — Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Bancroft,  Bob  Blewitt  and  Winifred  Piper  ;  May  6, 
a   revival   of   *  Ours '  ;  Oct.    4,    *  Peril,'  adapted    by 


28  MR.   AND  MRS.   BANCROFT. 

Bolton  and  Savile  Rowe  (Clement  Scott  and  B.  C. 
Stephenson)  from  Sardou's  '  Nos  Intimes  ' — Mr. 
Bancroft,  Sir  George  Ormond,  Mrs.  Kendal,  Lady 
Ormond,  Mr.  Kendal,  Dr.  Thornton. 

1877  :  March  31,  the  *  Vicarage,'  adapted  by 
Clement  Scott  from  Feuillet's  '  Village  ' — Mrs.  Ban- 
croft, Mrs.  Haygarth,  Mr.  Kendal,  George  Clarke — 
and  *  London  Assurance  ' — Mr.  Bancroft,  Dazzle,  Mrs. 
Bancroft,  Pert,  Mr.  Kendal,  Charles  Courtly,  Mrs. 
Kendal,  Lady  Gay  Spanker ;  Sept.  29,  revival  of 
*  An  Unequal  Match ' — Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bancroft, 
Blenkinsop  and  Hester  Grazebrooke — and  '  To  Parents 
and  Guardians,' — Mr.  Arthur  Cecil,   Tourbillon. 

1878  :  Jan.  12, '  Diplomacy,'  adapted  by  Bolton  and 
Savile  Rowe,  from  Sardou's  *  Dora  ' — Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Bancroft,  Orloff  and  Ztcka,  Mr.  Kendal,  Captain 
Beauclerc,  Mrs.  Kendal,  Dora — a  great  success. 

1879:  Jan.  II,  a  revival  of  '  Caste  '  ;  May  31,  a 
revival  of  *  Sweetheart;; ' — Mr.  Bancroft,  Harry  Spread- 
brow — with  '  Good  for  Nothing  ' — Mrs.  Bancroft, 
Nan — and  the  farce  '  Heads  and  Tails  '  ;  Sept.  27, 
'  Duty,'  adapted  by  James  Albery  from  Sardou's 
'  Bourgeois  de  Pont  Arcy.'  Neither  Mr.  nor  Mrs.  Ban- 
croft appeared,  and  the  play  was  only  a  qualified  suc- 
cess. 

This  was  the  last  production  under  the  Bancroft 
management  at  the  Prince  of  Wales's,  The  increase 
in  the  salaries  of  actors,  and  the  ever  growing  demand 
for  luxury  of  stage  appointments,  rendered  the  ex- 
penses so  heavy  that  even  when  the  little  theatre  was 
filled  night  after  night,*  there  was  but  a  scant  margin 

*  After  the  production  of  the  '  School  for  Scandal,'  the  price 
of  stalls  was  half-a-guinea. 


MR.    AND   MRS.    BANCROFT.  29 

of  profit.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bancroft  accordingly  looked 
about  for  a  larger  theatre,  and  fixed  on  the  Haymarket, 
the  traditional  home  of  English  comedy.  They  en- 
tirely reconstructed  and  re-decorated  the  house,  and 
their  abolition  of  the  pit  occasioned  some  disturbance 
on  the  opening  night.  The  following  is  a  list  of  their 
productions  at  the  Haymarket,  no  mention  being  made 
of  the  summer  seasons,  during  which  it  was  their  cus- 
tom to  sub-let  the  theatre  : — 

1880  :  Jan.  31,  a  revival  of  '  Money' ;  May  i,  a 
revival  of  *  School '  ;  Nov.  27,  '  School '  resumed  af- 
ter the  vacation,  and  the  *  Vicarage  '  revived — Mr. 
Bancroft,  George  Clarke. 

1881  :  Feb.  5,  a  revival  of  '  Masks  and  Faces '  — 
Mr.  Bancroft  and  Mr.  Arthur  Cecil  for  some  time 
played  the  parts  of  Triplet  and  Colley  Cibber,  week  and 
week  about  ;  June  11,  a  revival  of  *  Society  '  ;  Nov. 
26,  a  revival  of  '  Plot  and  Passion ' — Mr.  Bancroft, 
Fouchd ;  with  '  A  Lesson,'  adapted  by  F.  C.  Burnand 
from  '  Lolette,'  by  Meilhac  and  Hal^vy — Mrs.  Ban- 
croft, Kate  Reeve. 

1882  :  Jan.  19,  a  revival  of  'Ours' — Mrs.  Lang- 
try's  first  appearance  on  the  stage,  as  Blanche  Haye  j 
April  25,  Sardou's  '  Odette  ' — Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bancroft, 
Lord  Henry  Trevene  and  Lady  Walker,  Madame  Mod- 
jeska,  Lady  Henry  Trevene;  Oct.  7,  a  revival  of  the 
*  Overland  Route  ' — Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bancroft,  Tom  Dex- 
ter and  Mrs.  Sebright. 

1883:  Jan.  20,  a  revival  of  'Caste';  April  14,  a 
revival  of  *  School '  ;  May  5,  Sardou's  '  Fedora,'  trans- 
lated by  Herman  Merivale — Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bancroft, 
Jean  de  Siriex  and  the  Countess  Olga  Soukareff,  Mrs. 
Bernard    Beere,   Fidora ;  Nov.  24,  Pinero's    *  Lords 


3©  MR.    AND    MkS.    BANCROFT. 

and  Commons ' — Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bancroft,   Tom  Jer- 

voise  and  Miss  Maplebeck. 

1884:  Feb.  16,  a  revival  of  'Peril' — Mr.  Bancroft, 
Dr.  Thornton  ;  May  3,  a  revival  of  the  *  Rivals  ' — Mr. 
Bancroft,  Faulkland ;  Nov.  8,  a  revival  of  'Diplo- 
macy ' — Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bancroft,  Henry  Beauclerc  and 
Lady  Henry  Fairfax. 

1885  :  Feb.  28,  a  revival  of  'Masks  and  Faces'; 
April  25,  a  revival  of  '  Ours  ' ;  May  30,  a  revival  of 
'  Sweethearts '  and  '  Good  for  Nothing,'  with  '  Kathe- 
rine  and  Petruchio  '  ;  June  20,  farewell  performances 
of  'Diplomacy';  July  13,  farewell  performances  of 
*  Masks  and  Faces  ' ;  July  20,  a  special  farewell  per- 
formance on  the  retirement  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bancroft 
from  management.  The  programme  consisted  of  the 
first  act  of  '  Money,'  performed  by  a  number  of  the 
most  distinguished  actors  and  actresses  who  had 
played  under  the  Bancroft  management ;  a  selection 
from  *  London  Assurance,*  played  by  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Kendal,  Mr.  Hare  and  others ;  the  last  two  acts  of 
'  Masks  and  Faces,'  played  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bancroft 
and  the  Haymarket  Company  ;  an  address  in  verse  by 
Mr.  Clement  Scott,  delivered  by  Mr.  Henry  Irving  ;  a 
humorous  speech  by  Mr.  J.  L.  Toole  ;  and  Mr.  Ban- 
croft's own  farewell  address.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bancroft 
are  at  present  (August,  1886)  living  in  retirement. 

Of  Mrs.  Bancroft  as  an  actress  of  burlesque,  we  can- 
not speak  from  personal  recollection  ;  but  we  do  not 
need  the  hundred  testimonies  which  echo  that  of  Dick- 
ens, quoted  above,  to  convince  us  that  she  must  have 
possessed  a  piquancy  and  elasticity  of  spirits  as  rare  as 
they  were  delightful.  These  were  the  earlier  and  bet- 
ter days  of  burlesque  ;  but  Mrs.  Bancroft  felt  in  her- 


MR.    AND    MRS.    BANCROFT.  31 

self  the  longing  and  the  power  for  better  things.  The 
success  of  Mr.  Robertson's  plays  afforded  her  the  de- 
sired opportunity  of  devoting  herself  entirely  to 
comedy,  and  she  took  prompt  advantage  of  it.  The 
Robertsonian  formula  included  two  heroines  in  each 
comedy:  one  ideal,  the  other  practical ;  one  sentimental, 
the  other  humorous.  The  practical-humorous  heroine 
— Mary  Netley,  Polly  Eccles,  Naomi  Tighe — always  fell 
to  the  lot  of  Mrs.  Bancroft,  whose  alert  and  expres- 
sive face,  humid-sparkling  eye,  and  small  compact 
figure  seemed  to  have  been  expressly  designed  for 
these  characters.  She  possessed,  too,  the  faculty  of 
approaching  the  border-line  of  ^wlnjarity  without  over- 
stepping it — an  essential  gift  for  the  actress  who  has 
to  deal  with  Robertsonian  pertnesses — and  wherever 
feeling  was  called  for  she  proved  a  mistress  of  tears  as 
well  as  of  laughter.  During  her  latercareer  she  was 
very  successful  in  more  than  one  character  in  which 
pathos  and  dignity  were  at  least  as  necessary  as  humor. 
Her  Countess  Zicka  in  '  Diplomacy '  was  an  achieve- 
ment in  which  great  intelligence  helped  to  cloak  a  cer- 
tain physical  incongruity  ;  and  her  Peg  Woffington  in 
*  Masks  and  Faces '  and  Jenny  Northcott  in  '  Sweet- 
hearts,' though  they  erred  here  and  there  on  the  side 
of  over-emphasis  and  caricature,  deserve  to  be  remem- 
bered as  performances  of  remarkable  versatility  and 
charm.  As  a  female  comedian  in  the  strict  sense  of  the 
English  word — much  narrower,  it  need  scarcely  be 
said,  than  that  of  the  French  come'dienne — Mrs.  Ban- 
croft deserves  one  of  the  highest  places  among  the 
actresses  of  her  generation. 

Mr.   Bancroft  is  an  actor    of  limited  range,   but, 
within  that  range,  of  remarkable  intelligence,  refine- 


32  MR.    AND  MRS.   BANCROFT. 

ment  and  power.  His  face  is  not  very  mobile  and  his 
features  are  so  marked  that  the  most  elaborate  make- 
up is  powerless  to  disguise  them,  while  his  voice, 
though  strong  and  resonant,  is  of  a  somewhat  harsh 
and  croaking  quality.  These  peculiarities,  combined 
with  his  tall  and  spare  figure,  were  of  the  greatest 
service  to  him  in  embodying  the  languid,  cynico-sen- 
timental,  military  heroes  of  Robertson.  The  play- 
wright no  doubt  indicated,  but  the  actor  may  fairly 
be  said  to  have  created,  this  original  and  essentially 
modern,  if  not  altogether  pleasing,  type.  Some  of 
the  Chalcot-Hawtrey-Poyntz  mannerisms  have  clung 
to  Mr.  Bancroft  in  his  more  recent  impersonations, 
and  once  or  twice,  as  when  he  essayed  Loris  Ipanoff 
in  *  Fedora,'  he  has  been  tempted  out  of  his  proper 
sphere.  These  slips,  however,  have  been  very  rare, 
and  throughout  his  career  he  has  more  than  held  his 
own  among  the  distinguished  actors  whom  his  liberal 
policy  of  management  attracted  to  his  theatre.  Quiet 
humor,  subdued  feeling  and  unflagging  intelligence 
are  his  distinguishing  qualities, — what  he  lacks  in 
grace  he  makes  up  in  manliness.  Orloff,  and  after- 
wards Hetiry  Beauclerc  in  *  Diplomacy,'  Sir  Frederick 
Blount  in  *  Money,'  Faulkland  in  the  *  Rivals,'  Sir 
George  Ormond  and  afterwards  Dr.  Thornton  in 
'  Peril,' — these  may  be  mentioned  as  among  his  best 
non-Robertsonian  parts.  Unquestionably  the  best  of 
all,  however,  is  his  Triplet  in  '  Masks  and  Faces,*  a 
masterpiece  of  quaint  and  subtle  characterization 
full  of  those  touches  of  nature  in  which  the  ludicrous 
and  the  pathetic  blend  into  one. 

As  a  manager  Mr.  Bancroft  had  the  luck  to  find 
and   the    skill  to    seize  a  golden  opportunity.      He 


MR.    AND    MRS.    BANCROFT.  33 

catered  liberally  and  intelligently  to  the  demand  for 
completeness  of  presentation  and  luxurious  realism  of 
appointments  which  came  into  existence  along  with 
the  would-be  realistic  school  of  social  comedy.  We 
have  seen  how  he  fought  a  long  and  gallant  fight 
against  the  encroachments  of  the  French  drama.  It 
was  inevitable  that  he  should  ultimately  have  to  yield  ; 
and  if  some  of  us  are  inclined  to  accuse  him  of  sur- 
rendering too  utterly  and  unconditionally,  we  must 
reflect  that  no  "outsider"  can  realize  the  difficulties 
which  beset  the  art  of  management. 

William  Archer. 


Among  the  actresses,  I  should  certainly  place  Mrs. 
Bancroft  and -Mrs.  Kendal  in  the  foremost  rank,  their 
specialties  being  high  comedy.  Mrs.  Bancroft  1  con- 
sider the  best  actress  on  the  English  stage  ;  in  fact  I 
might  say  on  any  stage.  She  is  probably  thirty-eight 
years  of  age.  She  commenced  her  profession  as  a 
burlesque  actress,  and  was  one  of  the  best  we  have 
ever  seen  in  England.  When  she  took  the  Prince  of 
Wales's  Theatre  she  discarded  the  burlesque  business, 
and,  to  the  amazement  of  everyone,  proved  herself  the 
finest  comedy  actress  in  London.  Her  face,  though 
not  essentially  pretty,  is  a  mass  of  intelligence.  Her 
husband,  Mr.  Bancroft,  is  an  admirable  actor  in  cer- 
tain parts — Capt.  Hawtree,  for  instance.  He  is  the 
heavy  swell  of  the  English  stage. 

E.  A.  SoTHERN,  in  '  Birds  of  a  Feather,'//.  51-2. 

Mrs.  Bancroft  in  the  line  of  broad  comedy  is  a 
delightful  actress,  with  an    admirable  sense  of    the 


34  MH.    AND   MRS.    BANCROFT. 

humorous,  an  abundance  of  animation  and  gaiety,  and 
a  great  deal  of  art  and  finish.  The  only  other  actress 
in  London  who  possesses  these  gifts  (or  some  of 
them)  in  as  high  a  degree  is  Mrs,  John  Wood,  who  is 
even  more  broadly  comic  than  Mrs.  Bancroft,  and 
moves  the  springs  of  laughter  with  a  powerful  hand. 
She  is  brilliantly  farcical,  but  she  is  also  frankly  and 
uncompromisingly  vulgar,  and  Mrs.  Bancroft  has 
more  discretion  and  more  taste.  The  part  most  typ- 
ical of  Mrs.  Bancroft's  best  ability  is  that  of  Folly 
Eccles,  in  *  Caste,'  of  which  she  makes  both  a  charm- 
ing and  exhilarating  creation.  She  also  does  her 
best  with  Lady  Franklin,  the  widow  with  a  turn  for 
practical  jokes,  in  '  Money,'  but  the  part  has  so  little 
stuff  that  there  is  not  much  to  be  made  of  it.  Mrs. 
Bancroft  is  limited  to  the  field  we  have  indicated, 
which  is  a  very  ample  one  ;  she  has  made  two  or  three 
excursions  into  the  region  of  serious  effect,  which 
have  not  been  felicitous.  Her  Countess  Zicka,  in  a 
version  of  Sardou's  *  Dora,'  is  an  example  in  point. 
The  Century  Magazine,  January,   1881. 

When  *  Masks  and  Faces '  was  first  revived  at  the 
Prince  of  Wales's  Theatre,  old  playgoers  first  saw  the 
capabilities  of  an  excellent  comedy.  It  could  clearly 
be  humanized  and  made  natural  without  offence.  I 
can  recall  Mr.  Bancroft's  Triplet  as  far  back  as  that. 
It  was  moulded  on  exactly  the  same  lines  as  now,  but 
the  actor  had  not  sufficient  confidence  to  convince 
everybody  how  good  a  performance  it  was.  Webster's 
was  an  actor's  Triplet ;  Bancroft's  was  a  broken- 
down  gentleman,  as  pathetic  a  picture  as  was  ever 
drawn  by  Thackeray.    On  the  occasion  of  the  second 


MR.    AND    MRS.    BANCROFT.  35 

revival  Mr.  Bancroft  had  almost  subdued  his  nervous- 
ness. His  scenes  with  Peg  with  the  manuscripts,  and 
with  Mabel  Vane  with  the  sherry  and  biscuits  were 
exquisitely  touching,  and  I  could  quote  criticisms, 
were  it  necessary  to  do  so,  in  order  to  prove  that  there 
were  appreciation  and  honesty  even  on  the  critical 
bench  of  that  day.  But  the  Webster  "  bogey  "  hung 
over  the  scene.  He  was  thrust  into  the  faces  of  all 
who  dared  to  believe  that  Bancroft  could  perform 
any  part  but  that  of  a  nineteenth  century  swell. 
People  with  the  best  intentions  were  interested  but 
not  convinced.  Once  more  the  play  is  revived,  and 
Bancroft's  Triplet  becomes  the  talk  of  the  town.  A 
dozen  critics  dare  say  now  what  one  feebly  whispered 
then.  We  have  arrived  at  liberal  and  independent 
days,  and  the  public,  guided  by  honest  criticism,  know 
just  as  much  about  acting  as  the  critics  themselves. 
A  most  artistic  performance  is  the  Triplet  of  Mr. 
Bancroft.  What  he  conveys  so  admirably  is  the  idea 
of  a  man  who  has  been  a  jolly  fellow,  but  who  has 
been  crushed  by  misfortune.  His  temperament  is 
light,  airy,  enthusiastic  and  sanguine,  but  the  res 
augusta  domi  have  been  too  much  for  him.  He  is 
prematurely  saddened  by  distress.  He  is  a  man  and 
he  is  gentle.  Emphatically  he  is  a  gentle-man. 
Never  was  a  man  so  buoyed  up  by  hope  as  Mr.  Ban- 
croft's Triplet.  He  does  not  cringe  or  whine.  When 
Peg  Woffington  chaffs  him  about  his  manuscripts  he 
shows  some  reverence  for  the  calling  of  author. 
When  Mabel  Vane  encourages  his  literary  vanity  the 
genial  fellow,  mellowed  by  his  wine,  rhapsodizes  and 
eulogizes  the  poets'  calling.  When  sunshine  steals 
into  the  poverty-stricken  garret  no  one  is  so  gay  as 


36  MR.    AND  MRS.    BANCROFT. 

James  Triplet.  But  it  is  one  thing  to  understand  a 
part  and  another  to  give  it  artistic  expression.  If  you 
want  to  see  a  bit  of  delicate  and  suggestive  art,  watch 
■how  Triplet,  ravenous  with  hunger,  slips  some  of  the 
biscuits  into  his  pocket,  and,  looking  into  vacancy, 
says  :  "  For  the  little  ones."  If  this  were  flung  at  the 
heads  of  the  audience  the  idea  would  fail.  But  Mr. 
Bancroft  touches  every  sympathetic  chord  in  the 
whole  house.  It  can  no  longer  be  said  that  this  excel- 
lent actor  is  merely  a  "  haw,  haw  "  swell,  though  of 
course  there  are  critics  careless  or  indiscriminating 
enough  not  to  see  that  the  actor  has  utterly  discarded 
his  "  stiff  and  angular  method." 

Clare  Lincoln,  in  Dramatic  Review,  March  7,  1885. 


MR.  LAWRENCE  BARRETT. 


37 


TO    LAWRENCE    BARRETT. 

When  Burbage  played  the  stage  was  bare 
Of  font  and  temple,  tower  and  stair  ; 
Two  backswords  eked  a  battle  out, 
Two  supers  made  a  rabble-rout, 
The  throne  of  Denmark  was  a  chair  ! 

And  yet,  no  less,  the  audience  there 
Thrilled  through  all  changes  of  despair, 
Hope,  anger,  fear,  delight  and  doubt. 
When  Burbage  played  ! 

This  is  the  actor's  gift  —  to  share 
All  moods,  all  passions,  not  to  care 
One  whit  for  scene,  so  he  without 
Can  lead  men's  minds  the  roundabout. 
Stirred  as  of  old  those  hearers  were, 
When  Burbage  played  ! 

Austin  Dobson. 


38 


MR.  LAWRENCE  BARRETT. 


In  the  two  decades  that  have  elapsed  between  the 
ending  of  the  civil  war  and  the  time  of  this  writing,  of 
many  notable  careers  that  have  had  their  development 
upon  the  American  stage  that  of  Lawrence  Barrett  is 
one  of  the  most  interesting.  It  is  none  the  less  inter- 
esting because  happily  it  is  not  only  not  ended,  but  is 
in  its  period  of  most  active  and  energetic  growth. 
No  present  estimate  of  Barrett's  place  in  his  art  or  of 
his  relation  to  our  stage  can  have  other  than  a  passing 
interest,  and  must  be  made  to  seem  insufficient  and 
unsatisfactory,  when  considered  a  little  time  hence  in 
the  light  of  his  higher  transition.  John  McCullough, 
Edwin  Booth  and  Lawrence  Barrett  have  been  the 
three  recent  figures  of  our  stage.  The  first  is  taken 
untimely  away,  the  second  is  about  to  retire  at  the 
zenith  of  a  splendid  career,  and  the  third  is  the  man 
of  opportunity.  A  scholar,  a  man  of  wide  cultivation, 
an  indefatigable  student  of  his  art  and  implacable  in 
his  ambition,  Barrett  now  comes  singly  to  the  front  in 
the  height  of  his  powers.  It  must  be  easily  apparent 
that  whoever  would  now  set  forth  any  consideration 
of  his  place  upon  the  stage  of  our  country  should  be 
embarrassed  by  the  reflection  that  for  all  that  Barrett 
has  attained,  his  story  can  at  present  be  but  left 
untold. 

Barrett  is  essentially  the  student  and  the  scholar 

39 


4°  MR.    LAWRENCE  BARRETT. 

of  our  theatre.  Whatever  we  may  owe  to  the  genius 
of  Booth,  it  is  apparent  that  in  the  process  of  the 
elevation  of  the  drama  the  most  potent  force  that  may 
be  now  discerned  is  Barrett.  In  the  proper  belief  that 
a  star  is  unimpaired  in  effect  for  being  one  of  a 
constellation,  he  has  more  thought  of  the  presentation 
of  a  drama  than  of  the  presentation  of  Barrett.  To 
this  end  he  has  labored  with  unswerving  fidelity,  and 
we  must  look  to  another  stage  than  ours  for  a  like 
example  of  unrelenting  study,  incessant  labor  and 
unthinking  self-denial. 

Lawrence  Barrett  was  born  in  Paterson,  New  Jer- 
sey, in  1839,  of  Irish  parents,  and  his  earliest  connec- 
tion with  the  stage  was  in  the  capacity  of  call-boy  in 
a  Pittsburgh  theatre.  He  started  at  the  bottom,  and, 
like  others  who  have  achieved  the  greatest  eminence 
in  his  profession,  his  ascent  is  all  the  more  emphatic 
and  complete  for  having  been  so  humbly  begun. 
Such  an  experience  implies  a  very  comprehensive 
education  in  itself,  but  Barrett  has  always  been  pos- 
sessed of  the  student's  disposition.  The  arduous 
duties  of  so  hard  working  an  actor  as  Barrett  leave 
ordinarily  only  the  time  required  for  rest  or  neces- 
sary distractions.  Barrett,  however,  has  found  time 
enough  to  become  a  thorough  master  of  English 
literature  from  the  point  of  view  of  a  student  who 
makes  a  specific  study  of  it,  as  well  as  a  well-read  man 
in  all  general  directions.  A  great  deal  of  his  study 
has  been  devoted  to  matters  specially  collateral  with 
his  profession,  and  he  is,  we  repeat,  the  student  upon 
our  stage,  and  for  that  reason  a  very  potent  and 
effective  personality  in  its  present  development. 

Barrett's  first  appearance  in  New  York  was  on  Jan- 


MR.  LAWRENCE  BARRETT.  4' 

uary  20,  1857,  at  Burton's  old  Chambers  Street 
Theatre,  where  he  appeared  as  Clifford  m  the  *  Hunch- 
back.' Two  months  later  Burton  engaged  him  for  his 
new  theatre  (the  Metropolitan),  and  he  began  there  as 
Matthnv  Bates  in  *  Time  tries  AH,'  on  March  2,  sub- 
sequently playing  Piers  Wharton  in  *  Wat  Tyler,' 
Reynolds  in  De.  Walden's  '  Wall  Street,'  and  Tressel 
to  Edwin  Booth's  Richard,  on  that  actor's  return  in 
May,  1857,  from  his  memorable  visit  to  California. 
During  this  and  the  ensuing  season  he  supported 
Booth,  Cushman,  Burton,  Murdoch,  Charles  Mathews, 
Hackett  and  Davenport. 

In  1858  he  joined  the  company  of  the  Boston 
Museum  as  leading  man,  but  for  the  following  four 
years  was  seen  in  New  York  at  the  Winter  Garden 
Theatre,  making  steady  progress  and  playing  a  vast 
round  of  parts.  Shortly  after  the  war  ended  he 
gravitated  to  California,  where  a  wondrous  era  of 
prosperity  had  declared  itself,  and  where  his  success 
was  remarkable.  His  popularity  was  unbounded,  and 
with  John  McCuUough  he  undertook  the  management 
of  the  California  Theatre,  backed  and  sustained  by  the 
efforts  and  encouragement  of  the  first  citizens  of  San 
Francisco,  of  whom  several  conceived  for  him  a  warm 
personal  friendship,  upon  which  his  hold  has  never 
weakened.  During  the  golden  days  that  immediately 
preceded  the  completion  of  the  Pacific  railroads,  the 
Barrett  &  McCullough  management  achieved  the 
most  brilliant  results,  but  it  was  a  partnership  that 
could  not  endure,  the  ambition  of  each  necessarily 
impelling  him  to  the  East. 

Barrett's  transition  from  the  leading  ranks  to 
leadership   was   effected    naturally   and   easily    after 


42  MR.   LAWRENCE  BARRETT. 

his  share  in  the  brilliant  history  of  Booth's  represen- 
tations in  his  memorable  theatre  had  ended.  He  met 
everywhere  throughout  the  United  States  with  imme- 
diate and  cordial  recognition,  and  the  foundation  of 
his  reputation  is  as  broad  as  the  country  itself.  But, 
as  already  pointed  out,  Barrett's  career  may  not  be 
set  forth  now.  A  later  writer  may  more  fitly  concern 
himself  with  it,  and  find  in  the  fruition  of  the  hopes 
and  ambitions  that  now  dominate  our  popular  and 
successful  artist  much  matter  whereto  to  address  him- 
self. 

And  yet  it  would  be  wrong  to  close  without  saying 
that  Mr.  Barrett  has  done  more  than  any  one  else  in 
America  to  present  the  higher  drama  under  condi- 
tions of  artistic  completeness,  and  to  stimulate  the 
literary  and  artistic  development  of  a  stage  impressed 
with  his  own  character  and  taste.  What  he  has 
achieved  in  this  direction,  so  far,  he  has  effected 
without  a  theatre,  and  it  has  been  so  serious  and 
remarkable  an  achievement  that  it  is  earnestly  to  be 
hoped  that  he  may  attain,  as  he  so  earnestly  desires, 
to  the  possession  of  a  house  of  the  drama  in  this 
metropolis.  Heretofore  he  has  led  his  cavalcade 
from  town  to  town  the  whole  year  round,  subjected 
to  the  wear  and  tear  of  travel,  the  vicissitudes  of 
varying  theatres,  and  of  constant  change  from  char- 
acter to  character. 

Nevertheless  he  has  given  us  an  admirable  variety 
— a  variety  such  as  only  the  theatre  of  Mr.  Irving  has 
afforded,  and  one  which  has  included  the  best  repre- 
sentations that  we  have  seen  upon  our  own  stage,  the 
most  profitable  to  its  reputation,  and  the  fullest  of 
promise  for  its  future.     It  is  only  needful  in  support 


MR.   LAWRENCE  BARRETT.  43 

of  this  belief  to  point  to  Mr.  W,  D.  Howells's  *  Yorick,' 
to  Mr.  Young's  '  Pendragon,'  to  Mr.  Boker's  '  Fran- 
cesca  da  Rimini,'  to  the  *  Wonder,'  to  the  *  King's 
Pleasure,'  and  to  the  '  Blot  in  the  'Scutcheon.' 

All  of  these  are  distinctively  productions  by  Mr. 
Barrett  according  to  his  own  lights,  and  to  be  con- 
sidered as  such,  and  as  apart  from  his  impersonations 
of  the  standard  characters  in  which  he  has  won  his 
well-deserved  fame,  and  which  comprise  all  there  are 
from  Hamlet  down  to  Henry  Lagardire.  That  all 
this  wonderful  industry  has  been  hand  in  hand  with  a 
large  and  liberal  cultivation  of  his  art,  and  a  grow- 
ing aversion  to  all  merely  perfunctory  representation 
of  the  drama,  is  what  makes  Mr.  Barrett^  so  interest- 
ing and  important  a  figure  of  his  time  in  his  profes- 
sion in  this  country.  He  has  broad  capabilities  and  a 
fine  ambition,  and  he,  if  any  one,  can  make  a  theatre. 
It  is  a  present  necessity  of  New  York  that  it  should 
have  a  house  of  the  drama  where  the  best  that  is  or 
can  be  written  shall  be  presented  in  complete  and 
artistic  detail,  and  with  such  assurance  of  its  worth 
and  importance  that  the  place  where  it  is  done  shall 
attain  to  the  dignity  of  a  permanent  institution. 

Wm.  M.  Laffan. 


Though  Mr,  Barrett's  acting  in  the  character  of 
Yorick  deserved  high  praise  before,  it  was  a  pleasure 
to  see  last  night  how  much  he  had  improved  upon  his 
earlier  conception  of  it.  At  every  sentence  one  felt 
the  new  power  which  the  player  possessed  over  the 
thoughts  he  designed   to  express.     The  clearness  in 


44  Mr.  LAiVREhrcE  barret't. 

the  utterance  of  the  words  was  no  novelty.  That  is 
something  which  he  has  taught  us  to  expect  from  him 
at  all  times.  Nor  was  there  any  imposing  change  in 
the  general  method  that  prevailed  before  in  the  con- 
duct of  the  play.  But  the  rapidly  changing  moods  of 
the  character  were  more  perfectly  defined.  The  mind 
of  Yorick  was  like  an  open  book  in  which  were  to  be 
read  all  the  vague  doubts,  the  growing  suspicions,  the 
intense  passions  that  are  developed  in  the  course  of 
the  tragedy.  This  distinctness  was  best  exemplified, 
perhaps,  in  that  remarkable  scene  where  Yorick,  with 
all  the  dexterity  which  his  training  upon  the  stage  has 
given  him,  seeks  for  the  proof  of  his  jealous  suspicions. 
With  what  address  he  penetrates  the  souls  of  the  guilty 
Edward  ancf  Alice,  causing  them  by  their  gestures  of 
shame  and  grief  to  confess  what  they  force  themselves 
to  deny  with  their  lips  !  Nor  is  he  less  skilful  in 
working  upon  the  arrogant,  yet  envious,  Walton. 
Entreaties  and  threats  prove  of  no  avail.  *  When  these 
are  found  to  be  useless,  the  jealous  man  becomes  a 
tormentor,  and  goads  his  companion  to  fury  by  his 
taunts,  and  thus  obtains  what  he  sought.  In  the  last 
scene  the  twining  of  the  passions  of  the  play  with  those 
of  the  interact  is  rendered  most  effective.  That 
vivacity  which  belongs  to  Yorick  as  an  actor  and  a 
man  of  genius  seems  everywhere  adapted  to  Mr.  Bar- 
rett's own  temperament.  The  exquisite  modeling  he 
has  given  to  the  personage  created  by  the  dramatist 
is  another  instance  not  only  of  his  talent,  but  of  the 
study  which  he  undertakes  to  make  the  words  he  is  to 
speak  altogether  his  own. 

Cincinnati  Daily  Gazette,  Nov.  ii,  1879. 


MJi.    LAWRENCE  BARRETT.  45 

Like  Forrest,  Barrett  owes  himself  to  himself,  but 
with  this  difference — Forrest's  physique  first  brought 
him  into  notice  and  prominence,  while  Barrett  had 
to  work  solely  with  his  brain.  His  progress  was  slow, 
but  the  recognition  has  come.  Lawrence  Barrett  pos- 
sesses more  general  culture — all  of  his  own  getting — 
than  any  actor  on  the  stage,  either  in  England  or 
America,  He  is  a  scholar,  self-made — capable  of 
entertaining  and  instructing  professional  teachers  in 
their  own  departments  of  knowledge — and  he  is  a 
grand  ornament  of  his  own  chosen  profession,  which 
he  has  done  so  much  to  elevate  and  adorn.  For  these 
things  he  has  done,  and  what  he  is,  he  is  entitled  to 
special  honor. 

St.  Louis  Republica)i.i  February  19,  1884. 

Not  long  ago — it  was  during  the  last  performance 
of  Mr.  Boker's  play,  '  Francesca  da  Rimini,'  at  the 
Star  Theatre,  New  York — Mr.  Barrett  made  a  brief 
speech,  in  which  he  laid  stress  upon  the  fact  that  he 
had  done  something  to  encourage  the  American 
drama.  That  is  perfectly  true,  and  it  is  also  note- 
worthy. Mr.  Barrett  has  helped  forward  the  drama 
and  the  dramatists  of  our  country,  just  as  Mr.  Forrest 
helped  them  years  ago.  This  is  noteworthy,  because 
Mr.  Barrett  is  quite  alone  in  what  I  may  be  permitted 
to  call  his  literary  work,  Mr.  Edwin  Booth  apparently 
cares  nothing  for  new  plays,  nor  for  the  American 
play-writers.  Mr.  McCullough  uses  the  American 
plays  that  Forrest  used,  and  other  plays  by  Payne, 
Sheridan  Knowles,  and  Shakspere ;  he  has,  I  believe, 
purchased  two  or  three  American  dramas,  but  only  to 
send  them  back  to  their  authors.     Both  Mr.  Booth 


46  MR.   LAWRENCE  BARRETT. 

and  Mr.  McCullough  lack,  apparently,  a  certain  crea- 
tive instinct — the  desire  to  bring  fresh  and  salient 
characters  upon  the  stage.  Mr.  Barrett,  happily,  does 
not  lack  this  instinct.  He  is  even  a  much  more  potent 
force  among  the  American  dramatists  than  Mr.  Irving 
is  among  the  English  dramatists.  Mr.  Irving  is  not 
afraid  to  produce,  occasionally,  a  play  by  Mr.  Wills, 
or  by  the  Laureate  ;  yet  he  has  given,  after  all,  little 
encouragement  to  the  English  writers  of  drama.  Mr. 
Barrett,  on  the  other  hand,  has  taken  pains  to  establish 
his  reputation  in  novel  and  experimental  works,  like 
the  *  Man  o'  Airlie,'  *  Dan'l  Druce,'  *  Yorick's  Love,' 
'Pendragon,'  and  *  Francesca  da  Rimini.'  Three  of 
these  dramas  were  written  by  Americans,  and  all  three 
are  worthy  of  more  respect  than  one  is  inclined  to 
offer  to  many  new  plays  which  are  now  popular.  The 
selection  and  the  production  of  such  dramas  show, 
lucidly,  that  Mr.  Barrett  has  a  fine  literary  sense,  a 
proper  regard  for  the  duty  that  an  actor  of  distinction 
owes  to  contemporary  writers,  and  a  moral  courage 
with  which  actors  are  not  commonly  gifted. 

George  Edgar  Montgomery,  in  the  Century 
Magazine,  April,  1884. 

Mr.  Lawrence  Barrett's  Richelieu  is  splendidly  suf- 
ficing. He  does  not  give  a  tumultuous  and  Boaner- 
ges-lunged version  of  the  character.  He  does  not 
rant ;  but  when  the  occasion  demands  it,  as  in  the 
famous  'Curse  of  Rome'  passage,  he  rises  to  the 
required  height  of  passionate  energy.  He  displays 
from  beginning  to  end  wonderful  versatility  and  elas- 
ticity of  mind,  passing  from  phase  to  phase  of  the 
many-sided   character  without  any  sudden  jerks   or 


MR.    LAWRENCE  BARRETT.  47 

spasmodic  transitions.  He  is  alternately,  and  always 
in  perfect  naturalness,  the  inflexible,  unscrupulous, 
and  implacable  despot  of  France,  whose  ambition  has 
decimated  her  nobility,  but  whose  politic  and  bene- 
ficent administration  has  raised  her  from  beggary 
to  prosperity  ;  the  affectionate  protector  of  Julie;  the 
kindly  patron  of  Friar  Joseph;  the  dry  humorist ;  the 
astute  expert  in  diplomacy  and  statecraft ;  the 
poetaster  full  of  literary  vanity  ;  the  broken-down  and 
almost  dying  valetudinarian,  and  ultimately  the  lion 
at  bay,  turning  on  his  foes  and  triumphantly  rending 
them.  I  can  not  look  on  Mr.  Lawrence  Barrett's 
impersonation  of  Richelieu  as  a  "  conventional  "  one  ; 
because  I  do  not  know  what  the  convention  is  in 
this  case.  I  have  seen  Richelieus  who  roared  and 
Richelieus  who  raved,  some  that  grimaced  and  grinned, 
and  others  that  maundered,  and  not  a  few  that  were 
dismally  didactic.  I  find  in  Mr.  Lawrence  Barrett  a 
Richelieu  who  shrinks  from  exaggeration,  whose  elocu- 
tion is  perfect,  whose  action  is  poetically  graceful,  and 
who  never  forgets  that  Armand  Jean  du  Plessis — why 
on  earth  did  Lord  Lytton  make  him  call  himself 
"Armand  Richelieu?" — was  a  gentleman  of  long 
descent  and  of  the  highest  breeding. 

George  Augustus  Sala,  in  the  Illustrated  London 
News,  May  lo,  1884. 

Lanciotto  becomes  a  great  character  under  the 
masterly  treatment  of  Mr.  Barrett.  It  is  a  noble  soul 
cramped  in  an  ignoble  case  that  drives  Lanciotto  upon 
the  breakers  of  destiny.  There  is  a  purity,  a  loftiness, 
a  womanly  delicacy  of  nature  behind  that  misshapen 
trunk,  which  the  brunt  of  battle,  the  scoff  of  malice, 


4^  MR.   LAWRENCE   BARRETT. 

and  the  slights  of  happy  fortune  have  not  hardened, 
nor  sulUed  nor  degraded.  The  soul  is  above  its  con- 
dition, and  in  the  fiercest  hour  of  its  trial  slays  its 
wronger,  not  as  the  act  of  mad  vengeance,  but  as  a 
sorrowful  deed  of  justice,  the  doing  of  which  is  the 
one  relief  of  its  heavy  shame  for  the  sin  of  others.  It 
is  an  ideal  character,  truly,  but  for  all  that  it  is  won- 
derfully human,  and  is  acted  with  wonderful  fidelity 
to  its  poetic  compromise  between  the  real  and  the 
desirable  qualities,  disposition  of  man.  In  the  stress 
of  widely  originating  but  closely  converging  emotions 
the  character  is  exceptionally  fine.  It  is  at  once 
heroic  and  tender,  daring  and  enduring,  savage  and 
docile,  violent  and  loving,  morbid  and  yet  just,  true 
and  generous.  From  the  humiliation  and  agony  of 
self-despite  to  the  mad  rapture  of  a  free  accepted  love, 
from  the  sting  of  a  bitter  fool's  malicious  jest  to  the 
sweet  balm  of  a  trusted  brother's  love,  from  faith  to 
doubt,  from  suspicion  to  despair,  this  creature  whose 
love  has  been  crowded  back  upon  his  heart  from  the 
four  corners  of  the  earth  is  borne  along  by  the 
impulse  of  unkindly  fate,  but  moves  all  times,  pitiful 
and  sympathetic,  with  the  inner  character  shining 
beautifully  clear,  nobly  true.  That  Mr.  Barrett  defines 
these  varied  phases  with  just  the  degree  of  feeling 
each  requires,  with  its  due  proportion  of  art  and 
nature,  its  quality  of  sentiment  and  its  measure  of 
force,  must,  we  think,  be  admitted  by  all  who  observe 
him  with  heart  as  well  as  with  intelligence.  He  su- 
perbly reveals  the  character  in  its  light  and  darkness  of 
emotional  being.  He  shows  the  greater  sensitive- 
ness that  makes  the  judgment  shift  its  place  and  the 
greater  truth  that  makes  self  unworthy  when  rooted 


MR.    LAWRENCE  BARRETT.  49 

faith  is  torn  from^its  embrace,  with  a  skill  and  power 
and  completeness  that  keep  company  only  with  that 
true  fire  of  heaven,  the  genius  of  intelligence.  It  is  in 
the  introspective  character  of  the  work  that  Mr.  Bar- 
rett is  chiefly  admirable.  No  one  for  a  moment  would 
question  his  dramatic  ability,  and  there  is  no  more 
reason  to  question  his  interpretive  power.  His  action, 
indeed,  is  so  exquisitely  tempered  by  the  art  of  ex- 
pression, and  so  appreciably  warmed  by  sincere  feel- 
ing, that  it  is  a  window  through  which  one  may  look 
beyond  the  actor  upon  the  conception,  upon  the  ideal, 
and  one  who  has  this  happy  privilege  is  truly  to  be 
pitied  if  he  stands  without  to  trouble  himself  with 
what  defects  he  can  find  in  the  man.  Mr.  Barrett 
was  fully  enough  complimented  last  evening.  Ap- 
plause was  frequent,  and  on  one  occasion  the  actor 
was  four  times  recalled,  but  he  received  no  greater 
distinction  than  his  performance  merited. 
•     The  Chicago  Inter-Ocean,  November  25,  1884. 

There  are  very  few  tragic  actors  of  our  time,  and 
among  them  the  most  ambitious  and  the  most  active 
spirit,  on  the  American  side  of  the  Atlantic,  is  Law- 
rence Barrett.  One  proof  of  this  is  the  fact  that  no 
season  is  allowed  to  pass  in  his  professional  experience 
without  the  production  of  a  new  character,  to  augment 
and  strengthen  his  already  extensive  repertory.  Mr. 
Barrett  has  not  restricted  himself  to  Hamlet,  Richelieu, 
and  the  usual  line  of  "  star  "  parts.  Long  ago  he 
brought  out  the  '  Man  o*  Airlie,'  and  gave  a  noble 
and  pathetic  personation  of  Harebell.  More  recently 
he  presented  himself  as  Yorick,  in  the  tragedy  of 
*  Yorick's  Love,'  made  by  Mr.  W.  D.  Howells,  on  the 


so  MR.    LAWRENCE   BARRETT. 

basis  of  the  Spanish  original.  His  revival  of  Mr. 
Boker's  *  Francesca  da  Rimini,'  t!^ree  years  ago,  is 
remembered  as  one  of  the  most  important  dramatic 
events  of  this  period.  His  production  of  Mr.  Young's 
tragedy  of  *  Pendragon,'  in  which  he  acted  King 
Arthur  with  brilliant  ability  and  fine  success,  gave 
practical  evidence  of  a  liberal  desire  to  encourage 
American  dramatic  literature.  Within  a  brief  period 
he  has  restored  to  the  stage  Robert  Browning's  superb 
tragedy,  *  A  Blot  in  the  'Scutcheon.'  Last  season 
he  resumed  Shakspere's  Benedick  and  brought  out 
the  charming  little  drama  of  the  '  King's  Pleasure'  ; 
and  early  in  the  present  season  he  effected  a  fine 
revival  of  Mrs.  Centlivre's  comedy  of  the  'Wonder.' 
Mr.  Barrett's  range  of  characters  is,  in  fact,  remark- 
able. Among  the  parts  acted  by  him  are  Cassius, 
Hamlet,  Richard  III.,  Shy  lock,  Benedick,  Richelieu, 
Don  Felix,  Alfred  Evelyn,  Raphael  (in  the  *  Marble 
Heart '),  Yorick,  James  Harebell,  Lord  Tresham,  Grin- 
goire,  David  Garrick,  Lanciotto,  Claude  Melnotte,  and 
Cardinal  Wolsey.  He  has,  of  course,  played  many 
other  parts.  When  he  was  at  Booth's  Theatre,  years 
ago,  he  acted  King  Lear,  and  when  he  was  associated 
with  Charlotte  Cushman  he  acted  Macbeth.  He  was 
the  first  in  this  city  to  impersonate  Daii'l  Druce,  and 
he  is  the  only  representative  of  Leontes  (in  '  A  Winter's 
Tale  ')  who  is  remembered  by  the  present  generation 
of  play-goers.  This  enumeration  will  readily  suggest 
to  experienced  judges  the  prodigious  labor  and  the 
astonishing  variety  of  talents  and  accomplishments — 
exerted  through  many  years  with  strenuous  zeal  and 
patient  devotion — that  were  necessarily  involved  in 
the  actor's  achievement  of  his  present  high  position 


MR.   LAWRENCE  BARRETT.  5 1 

and  bright  renown.  To-night  Mr.  Barrett  has  taken 
another  important  step  in  his  professional  careen 
making  a  sumptuous  revival  of  Victor  Hugo's  roman- 
tic drama  of  '  Hernani,'  and  winning  new  laurels  by 
his  impersonation  of  its  central  character. 

Of  the  three  men,  Don  Carlos,  Don  Leo  and  Hernani 
who  love  the  heroine  of  this  drama,each  is  in  a  different, 
way  noble.  It  would  be  difficult  to  decide  which  is 
the  noblest,  but  the  character  of  Don  Leo  is  the  most 
substantial  and  complex  of  the  three.  He  has  the 
most  of  mind,  the  most  of  passion,  and  the  most  of 
the  capacity  to  feel  and  suffer.  Youth,  when  it  loves^ 
is  often  enamored  of  itself.  Manhood,  when  love 
strikes  it  in  its  full  maturity,  worships  its  object  with 
a  desperate  idolatry.  Don  Leo  proved  equal  to  great 
trials  and  a  stern  test  of  honor,  but  he  can  not  rise  to 
the  supreme  height  of  the  final  sacrifice.  This  part 
was  played  by  Macready  when  '  Hernani '  was  acted 
at  Drury  Lane  in  1831,  and  its  opportunities  are  cer- 
tainly great.  Lawrence  Barrett,  however,  has  elected 
to  play  Hernani,  and  he  carried  it  to-night  with  splen- 
did dash  and  touching  fervor.  The  sonorous  elocu- 
tion was  almost  wholly  discarded  in  favor  of  a  vehe- 
ment, impulsive  delivery,  and  at  such  points  as  the 
challenge  to  Carlos,  the  reproach  of  Zartz  and  the 
avowal  of  the  outlaw's  royal  station  he  spoke  and 
acted  with  the  true  eloquence  of  heart,  and  he  evoked 
a  tumult  of  sincere  public  applause.  The  revival  of 
<  Hernani  '  was  brilliantly  effected  and  it  will  endure, 

William  Winter,  in  the  New  York  Tribune,  Dec. 
29,  1885. 

This  sense  of  the  dignity  of  his  calling  is  doubtless 


52  MR.    LAWRENCE  BARRETT. 

the  motive  which  has  inspired  and  supported  him  amid 
all  trials  and  difficulties,  and  enabled  him  now  to 
enjoy,  not  only  substantial  pecuniary  reward,  but  the 
sweets  of  gratified  ambition.  His  material  prosperity 
affords  matter  for  general  congratulation,  as  it  is  a 
complete  refutation  of  the  stale  and  stupid  slander, 
the  sole  refuge  of  ignorant  managers,  that  the  public 
cannot  appreciate  and  will  not  support  dramatic  enter- 
tainments of  a  high  order. 

Each  of  Mr.  Barrett's  engagements  in  this  city  in 
recent  years  has  been  signalized  by  the  production  of 
some  play  unfamiliar  to  the  ordinary  theatregoers  and 
of  positive  value.  '  Francesca  da  Rimini  '  was  an 
experiment  which  few  managers  would  have  risked, 
and  the  *  Blot  in  the  'Scutcheon  '  was  a  piece  of 
which  the  ordinary  manager  had  probably  never  heard. 
If  he  had  heard  of  it,  he  would  have  jeered  at  any 
proposal  to  play  it.  Mr.  Barrett,  however,  thought  it 
would  be  appreciated,  and  the  result  of  the  perform- 
ance abundantly  justified  his  opinion.  Then  he  pre- 
sented the  '  King's  Pleasure,'  a  most  dainty  and 
delightful  bit  of  fancy,  which  met  with  instant  ap- 
proval. This  year  he  has  revived  *  Hernani,'  Hugo's 
romantic  tragedy,  which  is  certainly  a  novelty  to  most 
of  the  rising  generation,  and  has  again  scored  an  indis- 
putable success. 

The  Critic,  New  York,  Feb.  \z,  1886. 

Lawrence  Barrett,  in  Yonck,  is  adequate  at  every 
point,  and  he  gives  a  noble  and  touching  performance. 
His  ideal  of  the  comic  actor,  who  deeply  feels  the 
serious  aspect  of  life  and  would  like  to  play  tragedy,  is 
especially  right  and  fine  in  this  respect,  among  others, 


MR.   LAWREXCE  BARRETT.  53 

that  it  is  precisely  the  sort  of  man  whom  a  common- 
place young  woman  (and  most  young  women,  both  in 
plays  and  out  of  them,  are  commonplace)  would  like, 
but  could  neither  love  nor  understand.  The  gentle 
humility  of  a  fine  nature  is  expressed  by  him  with  a 
certain  sweet  and  natural  self-depreciation,  so  that 
Yorick  is  made  very  wistful,  and  he  would  be  almost  ^ 
forlorn  but  for  his  guileless  trust  and  his  blithe,  eager, 
child-like  spirit.  An  ordinary  girl  would  be  flat- 
tered by  the  love  of  such  a  man,  and  would  be  quite 
content  with  him,  as  long  as  she  did  not  love  some- 
body else.  The  pitiable  character  of  this  disparity  is 
especially  enforced,  though  indirectly — which  is  all 
the  better  art — by  the  free  play,  the  abandonment,  that 
is  given  by  the  actor  to  an  honest,  confiding,  simple, 
happy  heart.  Yorick,  to  be  sure,  is  made  to  talk  too 
much  when  his  hour  of  trial  and  misery  comes  ;  but 
that  is  the  fault  of  the  writer  and  not  the  actor.  Sor- 
row speaks  little.  Macduff,  in  one  of  the  great  mas- 
ter's scenes,  simply  "  pulls  his  cap  upon  his  brows." 
Had  Lawrence  Barrett  never  before  now  shown  him- 
self to  be  a  true  artist,  a  deep  student  of  human 
nature,  a  superb  executant  of  dramatic  effect,  he  would 
have  proved  his  noble  worth  and  signal  power  by  one 
effort  that  he  made  last  night — by  the  splendid  self- 
control  and  the  refined  art  with  which,  throughout 
the  verbose  second  act  of  this  tragedy,  he  subordi- 
nated copious  declamation  to  intense  feeling.  Often 
before  now  he  has  played  this  part ;  never,  surely, 
with  such  wisely-tempered  ardor  and  judicious  while 
brilliant  force.  It  was  an  exploit  not  only  delightful 
in  itself  but  very  valuable  as  an  example. 

William  Winter,  in  the  Neiv  York   Tribune,  Aug. 
3,  1 886. 


54  MR.  LAWRENCE  BARRETT.   ■ 

As  for  the  Jew,  him  we  have  and  he  is  worth  our 
gaze.  Tall  moving  with  slow  strength  across  the 
boards  in  front  of  the  scene  that  does  duty  for  the 
Rialto,  standing  in  a  quietude  almost  statuesque  in  its 
pose,  robed  in  his  black  Jewish  gaberdine  bordered 
with  red,  and  marked  with  a  red  cross  on  the  elbow, 
a  black  and  yellow  cap  on  his  gray,  bent  head,  his 
richly  jewelled  hands  betraying  the  nervous  eagerness 
of  his  nature  as  they  clutch  and  twine  upon  his  long 
knotted  staff,  with  the  withdrawn  look  of  his  strong- 
featured  face,  and  the  reserved  intelligence  dwelling 
in  his  eyes,  Lawrence  Barrett's  Shylock,  it  may  be 
seen,  wants  neither  dignity  nor  originality.  The 
shabby  meanness  which  he  avoids  in  his  dress  he 
avoids  also  in  his  conduct  and  speech 

Mr.  Barrett  also  pictures  before  us  a  Shylock  who 
restrains  his  eagerness  this  side  of  tremulousness,  by 
so  much  the  more  heightening  his  intensity ;  who 
retains  a  dignity  of  old  age  in  his  outward  guise  and 
the  dignity  of  a  rooted  purpose  too  wise  to  unfold 
itself  abruptly  even  in  the  growing  tightening  of  sus- 
pense in  the  trial  scene. 

It  is,  in  a  word,  Mr.  Barrett's  glory  in  this  part  to 
have  given  us  that  Shaksperean  refinement  and  truth 
of  characterization  which  permits  us  to  understand 
and  to  appreciate  the  peculiar  justification  and  tempta- 
tion the  man  had  whose  deed  is  yet  repulsive  and 
condemnable. 

Shaksperiana,  November,  1886. 


MR.  EDWIN  BOOTH. 


55 


In  these,  and  many  immortal  words  like  these, 
May  wondering  thousands,  with  delighted  care, 

Note  thy  chaste  charms  of  classic-postured  ease, 
Thy  sculptured  face,  thy  rich  voice,  nor  forget 

That  thou  of  Kean,  Macready,  and  all  who  wear 
The  buskin  grandly  in  art's  annals  yet 

Beamest  the  radiant  equal  and  true  heir  ! 

Edgar  Fawcett, 


56 


MR.  EDWIN  BOOTH. 


Edwin  Thomas  Booth  was  born  on  his  father's 
farm  in  Harford  County,  Maryland,  Nov.  13,  1833. 
Although  not  dedicated  by  his  parents  to  the  stage, 
his  apprenticeship  began  in  early  youth.  The  care 
of  a  growing  family  keeping  his  mother  at  home, 
young  Edwin  was  sent  forth  while  almost  a  child  him- 
self to  act  as  guide,  companion  and  friend  to  the  most 
erratic  genius  that  ever  illumined  the  theatre  in  any 
age.  As  mentor,  dresser,  companion,  the  boy  lived 
almost  a  servant's  life  in  hotels,  dressing-rooms, 
among  the  wings,  in  constant  and  affectionate  attend- 
ance upon  him  to  whom  the  early  drama  of  America 
owes  so  much  of  its  glory.  The  applause  received 
by  the  father  rang  in  the  lad's  ears  as  a  sweet  prelude 
to  that  which  was  ere  long  destined  to  be  his  own. 
Indeed,  he  seemed  already  to  participate  in  the  glory 
of  his  father  by  the  close  and  anomalous  relation. 

Curious  and  characteristic  anecdotes  are  given  of 
this  strange  union.  Incidents  were  continually  hap- 
pening which  were  preparing  the  character  of  the  boy 
for  his  own  eventful  career.  Seeing  much  of  the 
vicissitudes  of  the  actor's  life  in  that  day  of  the 
drama's  hardest  probation  in  America,  he  learned 
lessons  which  were  to  be  useful  to  himself  hereafter. 
Pathos  and  humor  were  strangely  brought  together 

57 


58  MR.  EDWIN  BOOTH. 

in  these  tours  of  the  elder  Booth,  accompanied  by  his 
bright-eyed,  watchful  assistant.  The  irregularities 
and  vagaries  of  Junius  Brutus  Booth  are  made  familiar 
to  the  reader  of  dramatic  history,  by  the  annalist  and 
biographer ;  but  few  knew  the  serious  side  of  that 
strange  nature,  its  home-love,  its  parental  tenderness, 
its  sweet  indulgence,  the  royally  stored  mind,  rich 
with  the  learning  of  foreign  literature,  and  graced 
with  a  wealth  of  expression  which  made  his  learning  a 
well-spring  from  which  all  could  drink.  Thus  the 
theatre  was  Edwin  Booth's  school-room,  the  greatest 
living  master  of  passion  his  tutor,  and  the  actors  his 
fellow-pupils,  divided  from  him  only  by  the  disparity  of 
years.  Constantly  ignoring  any  question  of  Edwin's 
ever  becoming  an  actor,  his  father  acquiesced  willingly 
in  the  boy's  amateurish  acquirement  of  the  violin,  and 
of  a  negro's  mastery  of  the  banjo.  These  tuneful 
accomplishments,  aided  by  the  voice  of  the  young 
musician,  in  some  of  the  then  familiar  plantation  melo- 
dies, amused  the  leisure  and  gratified  the  paternal 
pride  of  a  fond  and  sometimes  over-indulgent  father. 
In  many  ways  these  simple  graces  served  to  assist 
the  young  guardian  in  keeping  his  father  within 
doors,  when  his  restless  spirit  urged  him  forth  upon 
some  of  those  erratic  wanderings  which  seem  now 
almost  like  moody  insanity  ;  when,  straying  far  into 
the  morning  through  the  sleeping  city  ;  striding  for 
hours  up  and  down  an  open  deserted  market-place, 
morose,  silent,  he  was  followed  by  the  pleading,  faith- 
ful lad,  who  feared  that  some  ill  would  result  from 
such  rashness.  Lear  in  the  storm,  with  no  daughter's 
ingratitude  as  an  urging  cause,  seems  an  apt  parallel 
here.     When  the  summer  vacation  came,  or  when  the 


MR.  EDWIN'   BOOTH.  59 

father  drifted  into  idleness  as  he  drifted  into  labor, 
Edwin  was  sent  to  school ;  but  to  be  as  suddenly 
dragged  thence,  whenever  one  of  the  fitful  engage- 
ments began.  One  can  easily  fancy  how  much  more 
potent  were  the  lessons  of  the  theatre  than  those  so 
irregularly  learned  in  regular  school  ;  and  it  is  dem- 
onstrated truly  in  his  case  that  an  actor's  life  is  in 
itself  a  liberal  education. 

No  wonder  the  boy  grew  up  observant,  grave, 
thoughtful  and  melancholy  beyond  his  years.  As 
no  thought  had  been  given  to  his  career,  so  at  last  it 
was  determined  by  accident,  and  by  no  suggestion 
of  his  father's.  On  Sept.  10,  1849,  Edwin  Booth 
appeared  as  Tressel  to  his  father's  Richard  III. 
on  the  stage  of  the  Boston  Museum.  No  trum- 
pet of  herald  announced  this  important  event ;  its 
necessity  arose  from  the  somewhat  insignificant  fact 
that  the  duties  of  prompter  made  it  necessary  that 
some  one  should  lighten  the  shoulders  of  that  official 
of  a  double  burden,  and  the  obscure  actor  was 
replaced  by  one  who  that  night  entered  upon  a  career 
the  consequences  of  which  will  affect  the  American 
stage  more  profoundly  than  any  other  event  con- 
nected with  it.  The  success  of  this  maiden  effort  did 
not  seem  to  win  the  father  to  the  lad's  side.  Without 
openly  condemning  the  step,  the  elder  Booth  tacitly 
showed  that  he  did  not  approve  of  it.  The  report  of 
Edwin's  hit  induced  managers  of  other  cities  to 
request  that  father  and  son  should  appear  together 
on  occasions.  This  was  stubbornly  resisted.  On  one 
occasion  an  old  friend,  then  managing  a  Western 
theatre,  asked  Mr.  Booth  to  allow  him  to  bill  Edwin 
with  his  father.      He    was  met  by  the   usual  curt 


6o  Ark.  EDWIN  BOOTH. 

refusal,  but,  after  a  moment's  pause,  and  without  any 
sense  of  the  humor  of  the  suggestion,  Booth  said  that 
Edwin  was  a  good  banjo  player,  and  he  could  be 
announced  for  a  solo  between  the  acts. 

His  first  appearance  in  Richard  III.  was  the  result 
of  an  accident,  quite  as  unexpected  as  his  original 
effort.  His  father,  billed  at  the  National  Theatre, 
New  York,  for  Richard,  suddenly  resolved,  just  before 
the  play  began,  that  he  would  not  go  to  the  theatre  ; 
entreaties  were  in  vain.  "Go  act  it  yourself,"  said 
the  impracticable  father  to  his  confused  and  half  dis- 
tracted son.  On  carrying  this  message  to  the  disap- 
pointed manager,  that  official,  in  his  distress,  accepted 
the  alternative.  The  audience  was  satisfied,  and  the 
play  went  on  to  the  end  with  no  demonstration  of  dis- 
approval. A  brief  experience  in  the  stock  company 
at  Baltimore,  uneventful  and  comparatively  unsuccess- 
ful, preluded  the  departure  for  California,  from  which 
so  many  results  important  to  Edwin  Booth's  subse- 
quent career  were  to  flow.  The  Booths  sailed  in 
1852,  crossed  the  Isthmus,  and  appeared  at  San 
Francisco  soon  after  their  arrival. 

The  time  for  this  visit  was  ill-chosen.  Financial 
depression  had  succeeded  the  early  marvellous  pros- 
perity of  the  Golden  State,  and  the  drama,  despite 
a  fine  company  of  actors,  was  languishing  with  the 
other  industries  of  the  Pacific  coast.  A  few  perform- 
ances in  San  Francisco,  some  appearances  in  Sacra- 
mento, given  to  poor  audiences,  and  unremunerative 
both  to  actor  and  manager,  make  up  the  result  of  the 
only  visit  of  the  elder  Booth  to  the  far  West.  Return- 
ing home  alone  and  believing  fully  in  the  future  pros- 
perity of  California,  he  left  his  two  sons,  Junius  Brutus 


MR.  EDWIN  BOOTH.  6i 

and  Edwin  behind  him.  The  usual  vicissitudes  of 
the  actor  in  those  pioneer  days  were  experienced  by 
Edwin  Booth  ;  unpaid  services  in  the  cities,  sad  and 
trying  wanderings  in  the  mountains,  where  the  sur- 
roundings were  of  the  rudest,  the  audience  the  most 
indulgent,  sickness,  want,  cold,  hunger — these  were 
the  early  discipline  of  the  sensitive  and  gifted  child 
of  genius.  During  this  time  the  news  of  his  father's 
death  reached  him,  bringing  home  to  his  heart  the 
first  great  sorrow  it  had  ever  known.  Now  filling  a 
subordinate  place  in  a  stock  company,  at  a  mere  pit- 
tance, now  pushed  prematurely  forward  into  the 
parts  his  father  had  made  famous,  he  journeyed 
hither  and  thither,  reaching  even  as  far  as  Australia, 
where  his  welcome  was  most  cordial  ;  then  to  the 
Sandwich  Islands,  with  a  king  for  his  patron  ;  and  so 
back  once  more  to  the  land  of  gold,  where,  in  a 
happy  hour,  he  yielded  a  ready  ear  to  that  voice  which 
had  been  for  years  calling  him  to  the  scenes  of  his 
father's  glory,  and  where  his  crown  was  in  waiting  for 
him. 

His  first  appearance  after  his  return  was  made  in 
Baltimore  as  Richard  III.  Later,  while  playing  in 
Richmond  under  the  management  of  Joseph  Jefferson, 
he  met  with  the  lady  who  became  afterwards  his  wife, 
the  lovely  and  accomplished  Mary  Devlin,  then  a  mem- 
ber of  Mr.  Jefferson's  personal  and  dramatic  family  ; 
and  at  length,  early  in  the  spring  of  1857,  he  made 
his  bow  as  a  star  in  Boston,  the  city  where  he  had 
made  his  first  essay  as  an  actor,  and  where  his  father's 
memory  was  still  cherished.  Opening  as  Sir  Giles 
Overreach,  he  was  completely  successful.  He  fol- 
lowed  this  auspicious    beginning   with   a   round    of 


62  MR.  EDWIN  BOOTH. 

characters  in  which  he  sustained  the  reputation  he 
had  already  gained.  On  May  4,  1857,  he  made  his 
bow  before  a  New  York  audience  as  Richard  III.  at 
the  Metropolitan  Theatre.  The  writer  may  be  par- 
doned if  he  here  connects  himself  with  the  subject  of 
this  memoir  in  recalling  the  importance  of  the  scene 
of  which  he  was  a  witness  and  a  participant,  in  an 
humble  way,  playing  Tressel  in  a  powerful  cast  of  the 
tragedy. 

Although  Booth  had  but  recently  returned  to  the 
East,  rumor  had  brought  the  story  of  his  fame  and 
success  ;  and  the  stock  company  of  the  theatre 
awaited  eagerly  his  appearance  at  rehearsal.  The 
scene  will  long  live  in  the  memory  of  those  who  were 
present.  A  slight,  pale  youth,  with  black  flowing  hair, 
soft  brown  eyes  full  of  tenderness  and  gentle  timidity, 
a  manner  mixed  with  shyness  and  quiet  repose,  he 
took  his  place  with  no  air  of  conquest  or  self-asser- 
tion, and  gave  his  directions  with  a  grace  and  courtesy 
which  have  never  left  him.  He  had  been  heralded  by 
his  managers  in  the  papers  and  on  the  fences  as  the 
"  Hope  of  the  Living  Drama,"  greatly  to  his  dismay, 
but  his  instantaneous  success  almost  justified  such 
extravagant  eulogy  ;  and  while  curiosity  had  brought 
many  to  see  the  son  of  him  who  had  been  their  whilom 
idol,  they  remained  to  pay  tribute  to  an  effort  which 
was  original  and  spontaneous. 

He  arrived  at  an  opportune  moment.  Forrest  was 
beginning  to  lose  his  grasp  upon  the  sceptre  which  he 
had  held  so  long  ;  age  and  infirmity  were  showing 
their  effect  upon  his  once  perfect  frame,  while  his 
style  was  derided  by  a  new  generation  of  theatre- 
goers.    The  elder  Wallack  was  playing  his  farewell 


MR.  EDWnV  BOOTH.  63 

engagement,  Davenport  was  wasting  his  fine  talents 
in  undignified  versatility  ;  and  a  place  was  already 
made  for  a  man  who  had  original  and  creative  power. 
Pursuing  for  the  next  few  years  the  career  of  a  wan- 
dering player,  with  frequent  returns  to  New  York,  and 
new  additions  to  his  repertory,  Edwin  Booth  was  ac- 
quiring new  experience  and  valuable  confidence  in  his 
powers.  He  was  married  in  i860  to  Miss  Devlin  ;  and 
in  1861,  he  visited  London,  having  made  an  ill-con- 
sidered and  hasty  agreement  with  a  manager  there 
which  forced  him  to  come  out  at  a  comedy  theatre,  the 
Haymarket,  in  a  part  unsuited  for  a  first  appearance, 
although  one  of  his  best  performances,  Shylock.  He 
paid  too  little  heed  to  the  importance  of  his  London 
engagement,  and  it  was  only  as  it  neared  its  close, 
when  he  had  satisfied  the  people  by  his  magnetic 
performance  of  Richelieu,  that  he  woke  to  the  magni- 
tude of  the  event.  He  was  obliged  to  quit  the  scene 
of  his  success,  at  the  moment  of  its  arrival.  Return- 
ing to  his  own  country,  he  found  the  land  agonized  in 
the  throes  of  civil  war.  During  this  first  visit  to  Eng- 
land his  only  child  Edwina  was  born.  His  home  on 
his  return  was  made  at  Dorchester,  Mass.  Here  he 
left  his  young  wife,  whom  he  never  saw  again,  to  go 
to  his  New  York  engagement  in  February,  1863.  His 
wife's  death  was  bitter  affliction  which  drove  him  to 
increased  labor  in  his  art  as  some  poor  solace  for  an 
irreparable  loss. 

He  now  took  a  lease  of  the  Winter  Garden  Theatre, 
New  York,  having  already  purchased  with  Mr.  J,  S. 
Clarke,  the  Walnulf  Street  Theatre,  in  Philadelphia. 
His  partners  in  the  New  York  scheme  were  Messrs. 
Clarke  and  William  Stuart.     In  November,  1^64,  oc- 


64  '      MR.  ED  WIN  BOO  TH. 

curred  the  notable  production  of  *  Hamlet,'  which  ran 
one  hundred  consecutive  nights.  It  was  adequately 
mounted,  excellently  cast,  and  fixed  the  fame  of  Mr. 
Booth  as  the  Hamlet  par  excellence  of  the  American 
stage.  No  such  revival  of  a  Shaksperean  play  had 
taken  place  since  the  days  of  Charles  Kean,  at  the  old 
Park.  While  acting  at  the  Boston  Theatre,  in  April, 
1865,  the  news  was  brought  to  him  of  the  great  calam- 
ity which  had  befallen  the  country,  and  inflicted  an 
incurable  sorrow  upon  himself  and  his  family.  He  at 
once  resolved  to  abandon  his  profession  forever,- 
but  after  nearly  a  year  of  retirement,  at  the  urgent 
solicitation  of  friends  throughout  the  whole  country, 
he  appeared  as  Hamlet  at  the  Winter  Garden  Theatre 
on  Jan.  3,  1866,  The  reception  and  performance  were 
remarkable. 

William  Winter  says  of  this  event — "  Nine  cheers 
hailed  the  melancholy  Dane  upon  his  first  entrance. 
The  spectators  rose  and  waved  their  hats  and  hand- 
kerchiefs. Bouquets  fell  in  a  shower  upon  the  stage, 
and  there  was  a  tempest  of  applause,  wherever  he 
appeared.  After  this  momentous  return  to  the  stage, 
he  found  a  free  hearted  greeting  and  respectful  sym- 
pathy ;  and  so,  little  by  little,  he  got  back  into  the  old 
way  of  work  ;  and  his  professional  career  resumed  its 
flow  in  the  old  channel."  This  was  a  notable  event 
in  America's  dramatic  history.  A  series  of  revivals 
worthy  of  the  refinement  of  any  age  succeeded  each 
other  at  the  Winter  Garden  Theatre.  '  Richelieu  '  was 
given  as  never  before  in  the  history  of  the  stage. 
Shakspere's  '  Merchant  of  Venice '  as  a  whole, 
with  a  fidelity  unsurpassed  in  scenic  and  historic 
annals,  ran  for  several  weeks  to  large  and  delighted 


MR.  EDWIN  BOOTH.  65 

audiences.  At  the  summit  of  the  success  of  these 
efforts  to  revive  the  glory  of  the  earlier  days  of  the 
drama,  a  fire  broke  out  in  the  Winter  Garden  Theatre, 
which  destroyed  not  only  much  valuable  material,  but 
delayed  for  a  time  the  purposes  of  the  ambitious 
actor,  who  had  no  less  a  desire  than  the  highest 
achievement  for  his  beloved  art.  Setting  out  on  his 
provincial  tours  once  more,  he  formed  the  plan  to 
create  out  of  the  ashes  of  his  ruined  theatre  an  edi- 
fice more  costly  and  enduring.  Selecting  a  site  for 
his  new  house,  he  placed  the  earnings  of  his  richly 
productive  career  in  the  lap  of  his  new  enterprise. 
Over  a  million  of  dollars  were  spent  in  the  construc- 
tion of  the  noblest  temple  yet  erected  to  the  drama 
in  America.  With  the  same  liberality  which  had 
stopped  at  no  sacrifice  in  the  erection  of  the  building, 
the  actor  now  lavished  large  suras  on  the  stage  and 
its  settings.  The  theatre  was  opened  Feb.  3,  1869, 
with  a  gorgeous  production  of  *  Romeo  and  Juliet ' 
from  the  original  text.  He  was  himself  the  Romeo, 
his  future  wife,  Mary  McVicker,  the  Juliet ;  the  gifted 
Edwin  Adams  the  Mercutio,  with  a  supporting  cast  of 
unusual  excellence.  The  success  of  the  theatre  was 
instant  and  enduring.  For  the  years  during  which 
Mr.  Booth  retained  its  control,  the  receipts  were  very 
large,  although  the  lavish  outlay  left  no  margin  of 
profit.  'Winter's  Tale,'  'Hamlet,'  'Julius  Caesar,' 
*  Merchant  of  Venice,'  '  Much  Ado  about  Nothing,' 
and  other  of  the  great  Shaksperean  plays  were  pre- 
sented in  an  unprecedented  style  of  magnificence,  admi- 
rably cast.  The  original  texts  in  all  instances  were 
restored,  thus  antedating  all  English  efforts  in  that 
line  by  many  years.    Disaster,  owing  to  unskilful  busi- 


66  MR.  ED  WIN  BOOTH. 

ness  management,  and  the  impossibility  that  one  man 
should  remain  always  at  the  helm,  wrecked  this  noble 
venture.  But  although  bankruptcy  resulted  to  the 
enthusiastic  founder,  the  glory  of  having  given  such  a 
temple  and  such  a  series  of  revivals  to  the  American 
stage,  will  be  linked  inseparably  with  the  renown  of 
Edwin  Booth. 

His  subsequent  appearances  in  San  Francisco  after 
twenty  years'  absence,  and  in  London,  where  he  pre- 
sented a  round  of  his  favorite  parts  with  great  eclat, 
and  his  crowning  glory  in  presenting  himself  before 
the  critics  of  exacting  Germany,  lead  up  so  near  the 
present  hour  of  writing,  that  their  exploits  must  await 
another  annalist  for  their  recording. 

The  noble  subject  of  these  records  is  still,  in  the 
zenith  of  his  strength.  He  lives  to  lead  the  American 
stage  of  to-day,  with  the  same  power  as  of  old,  and 
with  the  same  love  on  the  part  of  his  followers  to  sus- 
tain him.  Eulogy  and  praise  stand  mute  in  the 
presence  of  such  merits.  Nil  nisi  mortuis  bonum,  is 
the  admonition  when  the  chroniclers  gather  up  the 
records  of  a  great  man's  life,  after  the  race  is  run. 
The  biographer  who  shall  truly  write  the  story  of 
Edwin  Booth's  career  will  have  little  need  to  observe 
this  caution.  Of  him  it  may  be  said  aside  from  his 
great  place  and  merit  as  the  greatest  exponent  of  our 
art  of  to-day,  that 

His  life  was  gentle  ;  and  the  elements 

So  mixed  in  him  that  nature  might  stand  up, 
And  say  to  all  the  world  '  This  was  a  man.' 

Lawrence  Barrett. 


MR.  EDWIN  BOOTH.  67 

Oa  the  loth  of  September,  1849,  Edwin  Booth 
made  his  first  appearance  on  any  stage,  in  the 
character  of  Tressel,  at  the  Boston  Museum,  under 
the  following  circumstances.  Mr.  Thoman,  who  was 
prompter  and  actor,  was  arranging  some  detail  of  the 
play,  and  becoming  irritable  at  having  so  much  to  do, 
said  abruptly  to  Edwin,  who  was  standing  near  him, 
"  This  is  too  much  work  for  one  man  ;  you  ought  to 
play  Tressel,''  and  he  induced  him  to  undertake  the 
part.  On  the  eventful  night  the  elder  Booth  dressed 
for  Richard  HI.  was  seated  with  his  feet  upon  a  table 
in  his  dressing-room.  Calling  his  son  before  him, 
like  a  severe  pedagogue  or  inquisitor,  he  interrogated 
him  in  that  hard,  laconic  style  he  could  so  seriously 
assume  : — 

"Who  was  Tressel?" 

"A  messenger  from  the  field  of  Tewksbury." 

"  What  was  his  mission  ?  " 

"  To  bear  the  news  of  the  defeat  of  the  king's 
party." 

"  How  did  he  make  the  journey  ? " 

"  On  horseback." 

"  Where  are  your  spurs  ?  " 

Edwin  glanced  quickly  down,  and  said  he  had  not 
thought  of  them. 

•**  Here,  take  mine." 

Edwin  unbuckled  his  father's  spurs,  and  fastened 
them  on  his  own  boots.  His  part  being  ended  on  the 
stage,  he  found  his  father  still  sitting  in  the  dressing- 
room,  apparently  engrossed  in  thought. 

"  Have  you  done  well  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  think  so,"  replied  Edwin. 

"  Give  me  ray  spurs,"  rejoined    his  father ;    and 


68  MR.  EDWIN  BOOTH. 

obediently  young    Tressel  replaced    the   spurs    upon 
Gloucester  s  feet. 

Asia  Booth  Clarke  :  '  The  Elder  and  the  Younger 
Booth,'    pp.  125-26. 

Edwin  Booth  has  made  me  know  what  tragedy  is. 
He  has  displayed  to  my  eyes  an  entirely  new  field  ; 
he  has  opened  to  me  the  door  to  another  and  exquisite 
delight ;  he  has  shown  me  the  possibilities  of  tragedy. 
Though  he  has  not  yet  done  all  that  he  has  pointed 
at,  there  are  moments  in  his  acting  in  which  he  is  full 
of  the  divine  fire,  in  which  the  animation  that  clothes 
him  as  with  a  garment,  the  halo  of  genius  that  sur- 
rounds him,  not  only  recalls  what  I  have  not  of 
others  ;  not  only  suggests,  but  incarnates  and  embodies 
my  highest  notions  of  tragedy. 

Adam  Badeau  :  The  'Vagabond,'  1859. — Edwin 
Booth. 

He  got  out  old  wigs — one  that  Kean  had 

worn  in  Lear ;  the  very  one  that  was  torn  from  his 
head  in  the  mad  scene,  and  yet  the  pit  refused  to 
smile  ;  he  found  me  his  father's  Othello  wig,  and  put 
it  on  to  show  the  look.  There  was  a  picture  of  the 
Elder  Booth  hard  by  on  the  wall,  and  the  likeness  was 
marvellous. 

Ibid:  •  A  Night  with  the  Booths.' 

Booth  cast  his  first,  and  the  only  vote  of  his  life,  for 
Abraham  Lincoln,  in  the  autumn  of  1864.  A  short 
time  after,  on  the  night  of  Nov.  25,  1864,  the  three 
Booth  brothers  appeared  in  the  play  of  'Julius 
Caesar' — Junius  Brutus  Booth  as  Cassius^  Edwin  as 


MR.    EDWIN  BOOTH.  69 

Brutus,  and  John  Wilkes  as  Marc  Antony.  The  theatre 
was  crowded  to  suffocation,  people  standing  in  every 
available  place.  The  greatest  excitement  prevailed, 
and  the  aged  mother  of  the  Booths  sat  in  a  private 
box  to  witness  this  performance.  The  three  brothers 
received  and  merited  the  applause  of  that  immense 
audience,  for  they  acted  well,  and  presented  a  picture 
too  strikingly  historic  to  be  soon  forgotten.  The 
eldest,  powerfully  built  and  handsome  as  an  antique 
Roman,  Edwin,  with  his  magnetic  fire  and  graceful 
dignity,  and  John  Wilkes  in  the  perfection  of  youthful 
beauty,  stood  side  by  side,  again  and  again,  before  the 
curtain,  to  receive  the  lavish  applause  of  the  audience 
mingled  with  waving  of  handkerchiefs  and  every  mark 
of  enthusiasm. 

Asia  Booth  Clarke  :  *  The  Elder  and  the  Younger 
Booth,'  /.  159. 

In  a  discussion  with  Henry  Tuckerman  of  New 
York,  on  the  character  of  Ha^nlet,  that  gentleman, 
who  had  witnessed  many  of  the  old  actors,  observed 
to  Booth  that  they  all  stood  during  the  soliloquies, 
and  inquired  if  it  were  not  possible  to  alter  this.  On 
the  next  representation  of  '  Hamlet,'  Booth,  seated, 
began  the  soliloquy  "To  be  or  not  to  be."  Mr. 
Tuckerman,  watching  the  play,  could  not  conceive 
how  Hamlet  could  rise  from  that  chair  with  propriety 
and  grace.  When  at  the  words,  "  to  sleep,  perchance 
to  dream,"  after  an  instant  of  reflection,  during  which 
the  mind  of  Hamlet  had  penetrated  the  eternal  dark- 
ness vivid  with  dreams,  he  rose  with  the  horror  of  that 
terrible  "  perchance  "  stamped  upon  his  features,  con- 
tinuing,   "  Ay,    there's    the    rub  ! "     His   friend  was 


70  MR.  EDWIN  BOOTH. 

satisfied  that  the  actor  had  caught  the  inspiration  of 
the  lines  in  that  reflective  pause.  Booth  also  intro- 
duced sitting  on  the  tomb  in  the  graveyard  when, 
with  his  face  half  buried  on  Horatio's  shoulder,  he 
speaks,  as  if  to  his  own  heart,  the  words,  "  What  !  the 
fair  Ophelia  ? "  His  resting  previously  on  the  tomb 
is  most  natural  and  graceful,  and,  imbued  with  these 
qualities,  it  cannot  fail  to  be  effective. 
Ibid,  vol.  //.,  //.  153-4. 

Bulwer's  '  Richelieu,'  though  written  in  that  author's 
pedantic,  artificial  manner,  and  catching  the  ground- 
lings with  cheap  sentiment  and  rhetorical  platitudes, 
is  yet  full  of  telling  dramatic  effects,  which,  through 
the  inspiration  of  a  fine  actor,  lift  the  most  critical, 
audience  to  sudden  heights.  One  of  this  sort  is  justly 
famous.  We  moderns,  who  so  feebly  catch  the  spell 
which  made  the  Church  of  Rome  sovereign  of  sov- 
ereigns for  a  thousand  years,  have  it  cast  full  upon  us 
in  the  scene  where  the  Cardinal,  deprived  of  temporal 
power  and  defending  his  beautiful  ward  from  royalty 
itself,  draws  around  her  that  Church's  "  awful  circle," 
and  cries  to  Baradas, 

Set  but  a  foot  within  that  holy  ground, 

And  on  thy  head  —  yea,  though  it  wore  a  crown  — 

/  launch  the  curse  of  Rome  ! 

Booth's  expression  of  this  climax  is  wonderful.  There 
is  perhaps  nothing,  of  its  own  kind,  to  equal  it  upon 
the  present  stage.  Well  may  the  king's  haughty  par- 
asites cower,  and  shrink  aghast  from  the  ominous 
voice,  the  finger  of  doom,  the  arrows  of  those  lurid, 
unbearable  eyes  !      But   it  is  in  certain   intellectual 


MR.  EDWIN  BOOTH.  7t 

elements  and  pathetic  undertones  that  the  part  of 
Richelieu,  as  conceived  by  Bulwer,  assimilates  to  that 
of  Hamlet,  and  comes  within  the  realm  where  our 
actor's  genius  holds  assured  sway.  The  argument  of 
the  piece  is  spiritual  power.  The  body  of  Richelieu  is 
wasted,  but  the  soul  remains  unscathed,  with  all  its 
reason,  passion,  and  indomitable  will.  He  is  still  pre- 
late, statesman,  and  poet,  and  equal  to  a  world  in 
arms. 

Edmund  Clarence  Stefman,  in  the  Atlantic 
Monthly,  May,  1866. 

Booth,  in  his  first  season  of  Hamlet,  is  a  very  roman- 
tic recollection.  He  was  the  ideal  of  the  part  to  many  ; 
his  natural  melancholy,  his  great  magnetic  eyes,  and 
his  beautiful  reading,  made  him  a  host  of  admirers. 
I  remember  well,  in  the  first  year  of  our  war,  when  we 
were  profoundly  miserable  and  frightened,  what  a 
relief  it  was  to  go  and  see  Booth  in  *  Hamlet.'  In  some 
passages  he  was  superb.  He  gave  the  play  a  new 
rendering,  fresh  and  admirable.  When  I  first  saw 
Fechter  in  it,  whom  1  liked  infinitely  less  than  Booth, 
I  wondered  anew  at  the  genius  of  Shakspere,  who 
could  have  written  two  such  different  and  distinct 
Hamlets.  Mr.  Booth  gave  a  new  feeling  to  the  rela- 
tion to  Ophelia.  You  felt  when  you  saw  him  play  it 
that  Ophelia  was  a  poor  creature  ;  that  if  she  had 
been  grander,  nobler,  and  more  of  a  woman,  the  play 
need  never  have  been  written.  I  afterward  saw  him 
in  Othello,  and,  against  all  sounder  criticism,  I  pro- 
nounce that  his  very  greatest  part,  greater  than  his 
lago,  greater  than  his  Hamlet,  greater  than  Salvini's 
Othello^  because  infinitely  less  terrible,  and,  shall  I  say 


7  2  MR.  ED  WIN  BOO  TH. 

brutal  ?  for,  although  I  am  an  adorer  of  Salvini,  I  did 
find  the  last  scene  of  his  Othello  briital. 

Booth's  Othello  was  the  very  spirit  of  Venice.  It 
was  the  Middle  Ages.  It  was  the  Orient.  It  was  all 
that  is  delicious  in  the  land  of  gold  and  pearl — of  silks 
from  Damascus,  perfumes  from  Persia.  It  was  Moor- 
ish, it  was  the  Adriatic  and  its  history.  I  do  not  know 
anything  which  brought  all  the  reading  of  a  lifetime 
before  one  so  forcibly.  That  dark  face,  to  which  the 
Eastern  robe  was  so  becoming,  seemed  at  once  to  be 
telling  its  mighty  story  of  adventure  and  conquest.  It 
was  a  proud,  beautiful  face.  Desdemona  was  not  wor- 
thy of  it.  He  was  supple,  suspicious,  Eastern  from 
the  beginning  ;  that  he  loved  as  only  a  son  of  the 
South  can  love,  was  written  all  over  him,  and  there- 
fore his  jealousy  and  his  tragedy  was  prefigured  in 
him.  His  quiet  life  after  his  marriage,  his  reading  his 
papers  and  telling  lago  how  "  Cassio  went  between  us 
very  often,"  was  so  expressive  that  it  reminded  one  of 
those  hot,  heavy  summer  afternoons  which  hold  a 
thunder  storm. 

M.  E.  W.  Sherwood,  in  the  New  York  Times,  Jan. 
20,  1875. 

Instead  of  being  the  slave  of  "  tradition,"  I  found 
him  constantly  neglecting  old  traditional  points 
— of  which  his  manner  after  the  Play  Scene,  when 
his  exultation  would  not  give  him  time  to  wait  until 
the  crowd  had  wholly  dispersed,  was,  perhaps,  the 
most  notable  example — for  effects  which  commended 
themselves  better  to  his  true  matured  intelligence. 
Another  instance  may  be  given  in  his  delivery  of  the 
words,  "  I'll  rant  as  well   as  thou,"  which  were  not 


MR.  EDWIM  BOOTH.  73 

howled  and  ranted,  as  is  commonly  the  case,  but 
uttered  with  a  profound  contempt  for  the  ranting  of 
Laertes.  These  two  are  few  among  many  of  his  devi- 
ations from  "  tradition."  To  my  mind — and  espe- 
cially on  the  second  occasion  of  my  witnessing  his 
performance — Edwin  Booth  was  eminently  natural, 
and  to  be  looked  on  as  an  admirable  exponent  of  the 
more  approved  "  new  school." 

Throughout  he  was  the  Prince,  without  any  dis- 
play of  stilted  dignity,  but  graceful  in  his  courtesy 
and  gentlemanly  in  his  condescension.  His  charm  of 
manner  in  this  respect  was  specially  to  be  remarked 
in  the  scenes  with  Rosencrantz  and  Guildenstern,  in 
his  excellently  delivered  and  modestly  reticent  advice 
to  the  players,  and  in  his  scene  with  Osric,  whom  he 
treated  with  the  utmost  courtesy,  displaying  his  con- 
tempt of  the  fop  in  suppressed  tones  of  voice,  and 
playful  byplay  with  Horatio,  instead  of  anger  or 
impatience.  His  exquisite  tenderness  toward  Ophelia, 
to  whom  the  words,  "  Go  to  a  nunnery,"  were  uttered 
as  the  warning  advice  of  a  man  who  really  loved  her, 
and  not  as  indignant  denunciation,  was  such  as  to 
reach  every  heart.  The  same  may  be  said  of  the 
Closet  Scene  with  the  Queen,  in  his  display  of  filial 
forbearance,  which  was  made  as  prominent  as  was 
consistent  with  his  purpose  of  reproach. 

J.  Palgrave  Simpson,  in  the  Theatre,  December, 
1880. 

Mr.  Edwin  Booth's  King  Lear  thus  far  surpasses 
any  performance  which  he  has  given  to  a  London 
audience.  It  is  true  that  there  is  no  single  quality 
displayed  in  it  of  the  possession  of  which  he  had  not 


74  MR.  EDWIN  BOOTH. 

before  given  evidence  ;  but  on  no  former  occasion 
has  so  much  been  demanded  of  him  at  once,  and  on  no 
former  occasion  has  his  genius  been  so  unflagging.  The 
word  we  have  just  used,  "  genius,"  is  one  against  the  too 
bounteous  use  of  which  we  have  protested  ;  and 
there  are  few  words  which  lose  their  value  more 
by  being  scattered  broadcast.  If  we  had  hesitated 
to  apply  it  to  Mr.  Booth's  acting  before  he  had 
appeared  as  Othello  and  King  Lear,  we  should  have 
hesitated  no  longer  after  he  had  done  so.  In  his  ren- 
dering of  both  characters  there  was  apparent  that 
native  sense  of  grandeur  and  poetry  which  not  even 
the  highest  talent  can  achieve,  but  the  combination  of 
which  with  all  talent  can  acquire  in  the  direction  of  art 
and  artifice  may  certainly  deserve  the  name  of  genius. 
In  Othello,  as  we  observed,  the  actor's  power  on  a  few 
occasions  seemed  to  flag  ;  in  King  Lear  there  are  no 
such  occasions.  From  first  to  last  the  character,  with 
its  senility,  its  slowly  and  surely  increasing  madness, 
its  overwhelming  bursts  of  passion,  its  moving  tender- 
ness and  feebleness,  and,  underlying  and  seen  through 
all  these,  that  authority  to  which  Kent  makes  marked 
reference,  was  seized  and  presented  with  extraor- 
dinary force.  So  complete  are  the  interest  and  the 
illusion  that  it  is  only  when  the  play  is  over  that  the 
fine  art  which  rules  the  storm  of  passion  is  apparent, 
and  that  such  delicate  inventive  touches  as  the  sug- 
gestion to  Lear's  wandering  wits  of  the  troop  of  horse 
shod  with  felt  are  remembered.  The  character  is  of 
course  the  more  difficult  because  it  begins  at  such 
high  pressure  in  the  very  first  scene  that  any  coming 
tardy  off  after  that  scene  has  been  successfully  played 
would  be  unhappily  accented.     Nothing  could  well  be 


MR.  EDWIN  BOOTH.  75 

finer  than  Mr.  Booth's  rage  and  disappointment  with 
Cordelia,  and  the  half-insane  curse  which  follows  them, 
and  throughout  the  scene  his  senile  yet  royal  bearing, 
and  that  grace  and  happiness  of  gesture  to  which  we 
have  on  other  occasions  referred,  were  marked. 

Walter  Herries  Pollock,  in  the  Saturday  Re- 
view, Feb.  19,  1 88 1. 

Without  assuming,  however,  to  state  the  exact  ele- 
ments of  the  genius  by  which  Booth's  impersonations 
are  illumined,  it  may  be  suggested  that  its  salient  at- 
tributes are  imagination,  intuitive  insight,  spontaneous 
grace,  intense  emotional  fervor,  and  melancholy  re- 
finement. In  his  great  works — in  Hamlet,  Richelieu, 
Othello,  lago,  Bertuccio,  and  Lucius  Brutus — these  are 
conspicuously  manifest.  But  perhaps  the  controlling 
attribute,  the  one  which  imparts  individual  character, 
color,  and  fascination  to  his  acting,  is  the'  gently 
thoughtful,  retrospective  habit  of  a  stately  mind,  ab- 
stracted from  passion  and  toned  by  mournful  dreami- 
ness of  temperament.  The  moment  this  charm  begins 
to  work,  his  victory  as  an  artist  is  complete.  It  is  this 
that  makes  him  the  veritable  image  of  Shakspere's 
thought  in  the  glittering  halls  of  Elsinore,  on  its  mid- 
night battlements,  and  in  its  lonesome,  wind-beaten 
place  of  graves.  It  is  at  once  the  token  and  the  limit, 
if  not  of  his  power,  most  certainly  of  his  magic. 

He  has,  it  is  true,  shown  remarkable  versatility.  He 
can  pass  with  ease  from  the  boisterous  levity  of  Pe- 
truchio  to  the  height  of  Hamlefs  sublime  delirium  on 
the  awful  confines  of  another  world.  Othello,  the 
Moor,  lago,  the  Venetian,  Richelieu,  the  French  priest, 
and  Don  Ccesar,  the  Spanish  gallant — emblems  of  a 


76  MR.   EDWIN  BOOTH. 

great  variety  of  human  nature  and  experience — are 
all,  as  he  presents  them,  entirely  distinct  individuals. 

Under  the  discipline  of  sorrow,  and 

through  "years  that  bring  the  philosophic  mind," 
Booth,  like  all  true  artists,  drifts  further  and  further 
away  from  what  is'  dark  and  terrible,  whether  in  the 
possibilities  of  human  life  or  in  the  ideal  world  of 
imagination.  It  is  the  direction  of  true  growth  :  it  is 
the  advance  of  original  individuality  :  it  is  the  sign  of 
happy  promise.  In  all  characters  that  evoke  the 
essential  spirit  of  the  man — in  all  characters,  that  is, 
which  rest  on  the  basis  of  spiritualized  intellect,  or  on 
that  of  sensibility  to  fragile  loveliness,  the  joy  that  is 
unattainable,  the  glory  that  fades,  and  the  beauty  that 
perishes — he  is  easily  peerless. 

William  Winter  :  '  Edwin  Booth  in  Twelve  Dra- 
matic Characters,'//.  49-51. 


MR.  AND  MRS.  DION  BOUCICAULT. 

(Agnes  Robertson.) 


77 


Prolific  Boucicault  !  what  verse  may  scan 

The  merits  of  this  many-sided  man  ? 

A  stage  upholsterer  of  old  renown, 

Is  what  an  enemy  would  write  him  down. 

But  let  the  enemy  remember  still 

How  much  we  owe  to  Dion's  cunning  quill. 

What  tho'  in  many  of  his  plays,  perchance, 

There  may  be  hints  of  foraging  in  France  ! 

Let  us  be  mindful  of  the  genius  shown 

In  those  as  well  as  others  all  his  own. 

There  is  a  land  the  playwright  has  made  sweet, 

And  found  a  laurel  in  the  bog  and  peat. 

Not  yet  have  audiences  joy  out-worn 

To  see  the  *  Shaughraun '  and  the  *  Colleen  Bawn '  ; 

And  Dazzle  has  retired  from  the  scene. 

While  enter  Conn  and  Myles-na-Coppaleen. 

William  L.  Keese. 


78 


MR.  AND  MRS.  DION  BOUCICAULT. 


Mr.  Dion  Boucicault,  one  of  the  most  prolific  and 
popular  of  English  playwrights  and  an  actor  of  much 
humorous  force,  was  born  in  Dublin,  Dec.  26,  1822. 
In  1841,  when  he  was  only  nineteen  years  old,  he  saw 
his  comedy,  *  London  Assurance,'  brought  out  at 
Covent  Garden  ;  and  he  has  produced  two,  three, 
four  or  more  plays  in  every  one  of  the  forty-five  years 
which  have  elapsed  since  this  first  and  great  success. 
This  is  not  the  place,  nor  have  I  space,  to  call  the 
roll  of  Mr.  Boucicault's  countless  plays,  original  and 
adapted  ;  suffice  it  here  to  say  that  of  his  earlier 
pieces  a  few  of  the  best  remembered  are  the  *  Irish 
Heiress'  (1842),  'Old  Heads  and  Young  Hearts' 
(1844),  and  the  'Vampire'  (1852),  in  which  the  au- 
thor made  his  first  appearance  as  an  actor  (June  14, 
1852,  Princess's  Theatre,  London).  The  next  year 
he  sailed  for  America  with  his  wife,  Miss  Agnes 
Robertson,  one  of  the  little  group  of  very  clever 
young  actresses  with  which  Mrs.  Charles  Kean  had 
surrounded  herself  at  the  Princess's. 

Miss  Agnes  Robertson  was  born  at  Edinburgh, 
Dec.  25,  1833  ;  that  happy  Christmas  day  giving 
to  the  world  a  girl  who,  in  her  later  life,  was  to  bring 
merriment,  peace,  good-will  to  many  thousands  of 
men  and  women  by  her  mimic  art.     She  was  born  to 

79 


8o  MR.  AND  MRS.  DION   BOUCICAULT. 

the  boards,  as  it  were,  singing  in  public  before  she 
had  reached  her  eleventh  year,  and  coming  out  as  an 
actress  before  she  was  twetve.  This  event  took  place 
at  Hull ;  but  further  than  this  nothing  is  known,  either 
as  to  the  part  she  played  or  her  success  in  it.  A  few 
years  later,  in  January,  185 1,  she  made  her  first  appear- 
ance in  London  at  the  Princess's  Theatre,  then  under 
the  management  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Charles  Kean,  as 
Nerissa  in  the  *  Merchant  of  Venice.'  Here  she 
remained,  playing  the  lighter  parts  of  juvenile  comedy, 
until  she  sailed  for  America.  She  appeared  at  Montreal 
in  September,  and  at  Burton's  Theatre,  New  York,  on 
Oct.  22, 1853,  as  Maria,  in  the  '  Young  Actress.'  This 
was  also  the  part  with  which  she  opened  her  engage- 
ment at  the  Chestnut  Street  Theatre,  Philadelphia, 
April  10,  1854.  In  October  of  that  year  we  find  her 
at  the  Broadway  Theatre,  New  York,  where  she  played 
Milly,  in  the  '  Maid  with  the  Milking  Pail,'  Andy 
Blake,  in  the  '  Irish  Diamond,'  Don  Leander  and  Bob 
Nettles  in  *  To  Parents  and  Guardians.'  For  her 
benefit  on  Nov.  10,  1854,  Mr.  Dion  Boucicault  made 
his  debut  in  New  York  as  Sir  Charles  Coldstream, 
in  '  Used  Up.'  Miss  Robertson"  played  in  various 
places  throughout  the  United  States  during  the  fol- 
lowing years  ;  her  longest  engagements  being  in  New 
York,  however  ;  and  it  was  there  that  she  created 
new  parts,  by  which  she  made  herself  famous. 
Among  these  maybe  noted,  in  the  year  1858,  Jessie 
Brown,  in  the  '  Relief  of  Lucknow,'  at  Wallack's 
Theatre  (formerly  Brougham's  Lyceum),  on  Feb. 
22  ;  Ada  Raby  in  the  'Vampire,'  in  September,  and 
Pauvrette,  in  the  play  of  that  name,  in  October,  at 
Niblo's  Garden.      In  these  plays,  written  or  adapted 


MR.  AND  MRS.    DIOM  BOUCICAULT.  8i 

by  himself,  Mr.  Boucicault  appeared  as  Nana  Sahib, 
the  Vampire  and  Bernard. 

During  the  following  year  she  made  farther  ad- 
vances in  her  art,  and  gained  greater  successes 
before  her  Winter  Garden  audiences,  as  Dot,  in  the 
'  Cricket  on  the  Hearth,'  Sept.  14 ;  as  Smike  in 
*  Nicholas  Nickleb)'','  in  November,  in  which  char- 
acter she  moved  her  audience  as  deeply  in  one  direc- 
tion as  did  Joseph  Jefferson  as  Newman  Noggs  in 
quite  another — and  as  Zoe  in  the  '  Octoroon,'  Dec.  5 — 
one  of  Mr.  Boucicault's  best  plays,  in  which  he  him- 
self played  Wah-no-tee. 

A  little  later  she  touched  the  top  of  her  powers,  in 
the  delineation  of  Jeanie  Deans,  in  the  '  Heart  of 
Midlothian,'  first  produced  at  Laura  Keene's  Theatre, 
Jan.  9,  i860  ;  and  as  Eily  O'Connor,  in  the  'Colleen 
Bawn,'  played  first  at  the  same  theatre,  March  29, 
i860.  In  these  dramatizations — one  from  Scott  and 
one  from  Gerald  Griffin — Mr.  Boucicault  appeared  as 
the  Comisel  for  the  Defence  and  Miles-na-Coppaleen. 
Both  plays  had*a  long  run  for  those  days — the  former 
of  fifty-four  nights,  the  latter  of  thirty-eight ;  both  had 
unusually  strong  casts  ;  and  in  both  the  performance 
of  Miss  Agnes  Robertson  over-shadowed  all  the 
others,  memorable  as  they  were.  It  was  in  the  latter 
part — Eily  O'Connor — that  she  played  for  .the  last 
time,  then,  in  New  York,  and  bade  farewell  to  the 
American  stage,  at  the  Winter  Garden,  on  July  16, 
i860. 

In  the  same  parts,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Boucicault  came 
before  a  London  audience,  at  the  Adelphi,  Sept.  lo 
of  that  year,  and  won  praise  from  the  press  and 
plaudits  from  the  public.     At  the  same  theatre,  on 


82  MR.  AND  MRS.   DION  BOUCICAULT. 

Monday,  Nov.  i8,  1861,  they  appeared  in  the 
'Octoroon.'  On  Feb.  10,  1862,  Mrs.  Boucicault 
played  the  '  Dublin  Boy.'  On  Saturday,  March  i, 
she  assumed  the  character  of  Violet,  in  the  *  Life  of  an 
Actress ' — a  play  of  Mr.  Boucicault's,  in  which  he 
appeared  as  Gritnaldi.  On  Sept.  15  of  the  same  year, 
the  '  Relief  of  Lucknow  '  was  revived  at  Drury  Lane, 
Mrs.  Boucicault  playing  her  old  part,  Jessie  Braii'ii  ; 
on  Dec.  22  the  play  appeared  at  Astley's  Westminster 
Theatre,  the  management  of  which  Mr.  Boucicault 
then  assumed.  At  Astley's,  too,  she  gave  Jeanie 
Deans,  in  the  *  Heart  of  Midlothian,'  on  Monday, 
Jan.  26,  1863.  At  the  Princess's,  March  22,  1865,  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Boucicault  appeared  in  his  delightful  drama, 
'  Arrah-na-Pogue ' ;  and  at  the  Lyceum  Theatre, 
Sept.  18,  1866,  she  acted  Jane  Learoyd  in  his  '  Long 
Strike.' 

They  appeared  at  the  Gaiety  Theatre,  London,  on 
May  4,  1872,  in  'Night  and  Morning,'  an  adaptation 
of  '  La  Joie  Fait  Peur,'  and  later  the  same  season  in 
various  other  of  Mr.  Boucicault's  productions.  In 
September,  1872,  after  an  absence  of  twelve  years 
from  America,  they  appeared  at  Booth's  Theatre,  New 
York,  in  '  Arrah-na-Pogue,'  and  in  October  Mrs. 
Boucicault  repeated  her  old  triumphs  as  Jessie 
Brown.  Thereafter  they  played  elsewhere  through- 
out the  United  States.  Mr.  Boucicault  produced  the 
'  Shaughraun  '  at  Wallack's  Theatre,  New  York,  Nov. 
14,  1874,  and  acted  in  it  himself.  Returning  to 
London,  Mrs.  Boucicault  played  the  part  of  M'oya,  in 
the  *  Shaughraun,'  at  Drury  Lane,  Sept.  4,  1875.  In 
June,  1878,  Mrs.  Boucicault  appeared  in  *  Love  and 
Life,'  a  dramatization  of  one  of  Crabbe's  '  Tales  of 


MR.  AND  MRS.   DION  BOUCICAULT.  83 

the  Hall,'  by  Mr.  Tom  Taylor.  She  was  again  at 
Booth's  Theatre,  New  York,  in  Feb.,  1879,  where 
she  was  seen  as  Eily  O'Connor  and  others  of  her  old 
favorite  parts  ;  and  she  soon  after  quietly  retired 
from  the  stage.  Mr.  Boucicault  produced  a  five-act 
comedy  called  the  '  Jilt,'  in  San  Francisco,  in  the  sum- 
mer of  1885,  and  took  it  to  New  York  and  to  London 
in  the  following  year. 

Mr.  Boucicault  is  a  playwright  of  exceeding  dexter- 
ity and  a  comedian  of  consummate  skill.  His  plays 
are  so  many  as  to  be  almost  numberless  ;  they  are 
farces,  comedies,  operas,  burlesques,  dramas  and 
melodramas  ;  they  are  original,  adapted  from  the 
French,  and  taken  from  novels  ;  they  are  sometimes 
very  good,  and  sometimes  very  bad.  The  best  of 
them  may  be  divided  into  two  groups  :  the  Irish  plays 
and  the  plays  in  which  an  attempt  is  made  to  continue 
the  traditions  and  to  fill  the  formulas  of  the  so-called 
"  old  comedies."  Of  these  latter,  *  London  Assur- 
ance '  is  the  best  known,  although  it  is  no  better  than 
the  '  Irish  Heiress,'  and  not  so  good  as  '  Old  Heads 
and  Young  Hearts.'  They  have  all  a  certain  glitter- 
ing hardness,  which  has  suggested  the  remark  that 
they  were  the  work  of  an  old  heart  and  a  young  head. 
The  Irish  plays,  on  the  other  hand,  have  a  gentleness, 
a  softness,  a  pathos,  a  humanity  not  seen  in  Mr. 
Boucicault's  other  work.  These  qualities  are  most 
abundant  in  *  Arrah-na-Pogue,'  which  is  only  a  trifle 
broader  and  finer  than  the  '  Colleen  Bawn  '  or  the 
'  Shaughraun.'  As  an  actor  Mr.  Boucicault  has  con- 
fined himself  to  parts  in  his  own  plays,  adroitly  pre- 
pared for  his  own  acting. 

Miss  Agnes  Robertson  was  a  talented,  a  cultivated, 


84  MR.  AND  MRS.    DION  BOUCICAULT. 

and  a  most  attractive  actress  :  endearing  herself  to 
the  generation  of  play-goers  who  knew  her,  and  who 
loved  her,  by  the  womanly  charm  of  her  own  individ- 
uality,— ever  present  in  all  her  personations,  appealing 
to  every  heart  before  her.  Her  range  of  representa- 
tion was  not  extensive,  but,  within  the  limits  of  her 
powers,  she  was,  in  all  ways,  admirable  as  the  artist, 
winning  as  the  woman.  It  was  this  winsome  woman- 
liness, shining  softly  ^nd  subtly  out  through  every 
environment  of  costume  and  of  character,  which 
made  an  unconscious  but  imperative  demand  on  all 
sympathies,  and  even  called  forth  affection  ;  filling 
up  our  appreciation  of  and  praise  for  the  accom- 
plished actress.  She  seemed,  on  the  scene,  in  every 
variety  of  part  and  of  play,  the  ideal  embodiment  of 
innocence,  artlessness,  sweetness,  simplicity  ;  moving 
with  a  grace,  speaking  with  an  intelligence,  which 
took  captive  mind  and  heart,'  at  once.  In  the  juvenile 
comedy  of  her  earliest  days,  and  in  boys'  parts,  she 
was  bright  and  bewitching  ;  showing  a  mingled  dash 
and  delicacy  most  rare  on  the  boards.  In  the  com- 
monplace Protean  personations,  at  one  time  so  popular, 
she  gave  a  bouncing  Irish  boy,  a  stolid  German  lad,  a 
sprightly  Scotch  lassie,  and  all  the  rest  ;  each  done 
daintily,  each  with  its  own  proper  patois,  all  graceful 
to  look  at.  As  the  pert  and  pretty  soubrette,  she  was 
charmingly  coquettish,  capricious,  captivating.  But 
in  none  of  these,  nor  in  similar  light  characters,  did 
she  seem  to  show  real  humor — rarest  gift  of  all  to 
her  sex,  mdeed  ;  it  was  in  serious,  and  even  sad, 
scenes,  that  she  was  more  at  home  ;  and  her  nature  ap- 
peared more  appropriately  to  lend  itself,  even  then, 
to  pathetic  parts.     Her  sweetness,  her  susceptibility, 


MR.  AND  MRS.    DION  BOUCICAULT.  85 

her  submission  under  suffering,  her  uncomplaining 
courage  and  unrepining  resignation  beneath  unde- 
served persecution,  her  pretty,  pathetic,  girlish  charm; 
all  this  formed  her  more  fully  than  any  actress  I  have 
known,  for  such  parts  as  Dot,  Eily  O'Connor,  Jeanie 
Deans,  and  made  them,  in  her  person,  the  most  touch- 
ing of  scenic  assumptions.  In  these  parts — and  in 
Smike  as  well, — the  wretched,  starved,  beaten,  crushed 
creature,  yet  with  a  human  heart,  torn  by  tenderness 
and  by  thanlcfulness, — she  was  wont  to  win  the  tribute 
of  tears  from  unwonted  and  unwilling  sources. 

Vivid  as  are  these  personations  in  my  memory,  I 
yet  always  see  Agnes  Robertson  clad  in  the  costume 
of  Jessie  Brown  :  the  sweet  and  simple  Scotch  girl, 
patient,  cheerful,  heroic,  loveable,  moving  quietly 
amid  all  the  misery  of  besieged  Lucknow.  The 
Indian  mutiny  had,  just  then,  fed  us  full  of  horrors  ; 
so  that  all  men  were  well  attuned  to  the  key-note  of 
this  poor  play.  This  was  taken  from  a  story  fresh 
from  the  field  ;  which  told  how  a  small  English  gar- 
rison, holding  out  to  the  last  against  sickness,  starva- 
tion, the  shots  of  encircling  Sepoys,  was  saved,  just 
at  the  end,  by  the  English  advance,  the  coming  of 
which  was  perceived,  at  the  critical  instant  of  sur- 
render, by  the  quick  ear  of  a  Scotch  servant-maid,  who 
heard  before  any  other,  the  far-away  strains  of  the  bag- 
pipes, leading  the  van  of  the  friendly  force  of  High- 
landers. 

I  see  Agnes  Robertson,  as  I  write — in  my  mind's 
eye — sitting  silently  in  the  centre  of  the  beleaguered 
camp,  amid  worn  women,  wailing  children,  disheart- 
ened men  ;  the  deep  stillness  of  the  scene,  after 
all  the  foregoing  action  and  turmoil  :  speaking  plainly 


S6  MR,  AND  MRS.    DION  BOUCICAULT. 

of  something  imminent  :  deadly  or  delightful,  we  do 
not  know  :  only  that  it  is  near.  The  Scotch  girl, 
listless  and  speechless,  seems  suddenly  to  listen ; 
starts  slightly,  bends  her  neck,  her  eye  dilating,  her 
hand  half  held  up  ;  listening  more  and  more  intently, — 
to  what,  we  can  not  hear,  nor  those  about  her.  More 
and  more  eager  she  grows  ;  she  leaps  to  her  feet,  her 
frame  fills  and  towers,  her  whole  soul  is  in  her  eyes, 
her  face  flames  gladly,  madly  ;  with  an  exultant  cry 
that  thrills  us,  she  tells  them  that  safety  and  life  have 
come  at  last !  Then,  the  shrill  bag-pipes  squeak, 
nearer,  and  nearer,  the  musketry  rattles  all  around,  the 
scurrying  Sepoys  swarm  in  before  the  hurrying  High- 
land bayonets  flashing  all  about,  all  is  tumult,  triumph, 
thanksgiving  ;  in  the  midst,  rapt  and  radiant,  stands 
Jessie  Brown,  fixed  fast  forever  in  our  fancy  so. 

Benjamin  Ellis  Martin. 


Among  the  reminiscences  of  the  past  twenty  years 
few  figures  present  themselves  as  more  lovely,  delicate 
and  gifted  than  that  of  Agnes  Robertson — Mrs.  Bouci- 
cault.  She  was  a  genre  picture,  so  small,  gentil,  pretty 
and  acceptable.  I  first  remember  her  in  Effie  Deans,  I 
think,  a  profoundly  affecting  and  impressive  bit  of 
acting.  Then  in  many  pieces  where  she  danced,  sang, 
and  performed  variety  parts.  She  had  the  prettiest 
of  ballad  voices,  was  always  unaffected  in  the  use  of 
it.  She  never  condescended  to  the  trill  or  cadenza, 
but  .sang  her  song  through  serenely,  and  according  to 
the  text.  A  bird  would  not  give  his  "  native  wood- 
notes  wild "  more  charmingly  than  she  did.  Her 
Smike  was  a  terribly  tearful  thing ;  I  never  liked  to 


Mr.  and  MRS.   DION  BOUCICAULT.  87 

see  it ;  it  haunted  me ;  but  her  Jessie  Brown,  in  the 
*  Siege  of  Lucknow'  (I  am  not  sure  about  my  names, 
but  I  remember  the  thing),  was  most  beautiful.  I  see 
now  the  pretty  Uttle  figure,  the  big  foot  and  ankle,  the 
delicate  little  head  with  a  plaid  shawl  thrown  over  it, 
as  weakened  by  starvation,  the  Scotch  girl,  with  her 
second  sight,  and  her  preternaturally  sharpened  senses, 
hears  the  sound  of  the  pibroch.  Then  comes  up  a 
very  pretty  piece  in  which  she  and  Mr.  Boucicault 
played  beautifully,  called  '  Pauvrette.'  The  scene  laid 
in  Switzerland,  the  scenery  beautiful.  "  The  ava- 
lanche—  that  thunderbolt  of  snow,"  was  admirably 
managed.  The  young  couple  are  snowed  up  for  the 
winter,  and  the  wild  storm  that  raged  was  not  greater 
than  the  excitement  which  prevailed  in  the  hearts  of 
the  audience  as  to  their  probable  fate.  I  believe  it 
was  supposed  that  they  finally  escaped. 

M.  E.  W.  Sherwood,  in  the  New  York  Times,  July 
4,  1875. 

We  have  heretofore  alluded  to  the  Miss  Agnes  Rob- 
ertson of  long  ago  ;  and  now  a  memory  steals  in  upon 
us  of  her  de'but  at  Burton's,  and  of  her  enchanting 
performance  in  the  Protean  play  of  the  '  Young  Act- 
ress.' Of  the  half-dozen  parts  assumed,  the  Scotch 
lassie  and  the  Irish  lad  still  haunt  us.  The  highland 
fling  of  the  one,  and  the  '  Widow  Machree '  of  the 
other,  were  charming  to  see  and  hear  ;  and,  indeed, 
Miss  Robertson  was  charming  altogether. 

Wm.  L.  Keese  :  '  Life  of  Burton,'  p.  90, 

Then  somewhere  along  here,  I  think  in  a  summer 
season,  comes  a  vision  of  Boucicault  playing  the  '  Vam- 


88  MR.  AA^D  MRS.    DION  BOUCICAULT. 

pire,'  a  dreadful  and  weird  thing,  played  with  immor- 
tal genius.  That  great  playwright  would  not  have 
died  unknown  had  he  never  done  anything  but  flap 
his  bat-like  arms  in  that  dream-disturbing  piece. 

M,  E.  W.  Sherwood,  in  the  New  York  Times,  Jan. 
20,  1875. 

For  himself,  Mr.  Boucicault  selects  the  character  of 
Myles-na-Coppaleen,  the  plebeian  Irishman  of  scampish 
propensities,  who  alternates  native  shrewdness  and 
pathos  after  a  fashion  familiar  to  those  who  are  accus- 
tomed to  the  theatrical  Hibernian.  His  consummate 
slyness,  his  dexterity  at  prevarication,  and  his  evident 
enjoyment  when  he  feels  that  he  has  baffled  too  curious 
an  investigator,  are  admirably  delineated,  though  he 
is  less  "  rollicking  "  than  most  of  the  artists  who  have 
shown  in  Milesian  character. 

The  Times,  London,  Sept.  11,  i860. 

Mr.  Boucicault's  portraiture  of  the,  by  turns,  obse- 
quious, courteous,  and  indignant  GrimahU  was  in  all 
respects  a  masterpiece  of  histrionic  ability.  What  is 
technically  called  the  '*  make-up  "  was  complete  ;  and 
his  manner  throughout  was  true  to  the  natural  bearing 
of  a  man  fallen  into  misfortune,  but  conscious  of 
noble  birth  and  noble  feelings.  He  showed,  too,  some 
extraordinary  powers.  While  teaching  his  pupil  he 
has  to  point  out  to  her  how  Rachel  delivered  a  par- 
ticular speech  and  finds  it  necessary  to  resort  to  the 
original  French.  This  feat  he  brilliantly  accomplished. 
His  nervous  anxiety  for  his  de'buiatite's  success  on  the 
provincial  stage,  and  his  passionate  disappointment 
when  he  misses  her  from  the  next  scene  and  learns 
the  story  of  her  abduction  were  both  admirably  delin- 


MR.  AND  MRS.   DION  BOUCICAULT.  89 

eated.  These  things  place  Mr.  Boucicault  in  the 
front  rank  as  an  artist  of  versatile  abilities  and  a  com- 
prehensive mind. 

The  AthencBiim,  London,  March  8,  1862. 

It  may  be  said  that  he  reached  the  climax  of  his 
fame  as  an  actor  and  dramatic  author  in  i860  with 
the  production  of  the  '  Colleen  Bawn.'  His  merits  as 
an  actor  were  probably  best  exhibited  in  that  play, 
and  his  later  production,  the  '  Shaughraun.'  Mr. 
Boucicault  cannot  be  said  to  be  entitled  to  the  dis- 
tinction of  being  designated  an  original  writer.  His 
most  popular  plays  are  adaptations  ;  but  no  modern 
dramatic  author  has  said  better  things  on  the  stage 
than  Mr.  Boucicault  in  those  plays. 

Chas.  Eyre  Pascoe  :  the  '  Dramatic  List.' — Bou- 
cicault. 

For  example  :  the  usual  price  received  by  Sheri- 
dan Knowles,  Bulwer,  and  Talfourd  at  that  time  for 
their  plays  was  ;^5oo.  I  was  a  beginner  in  1841, 
and  received  for  my  comedy  *  London  Assurance,' 
^^300.  For  that  amount  the  manager  bought  the 
privilege  of  playing  the  work  for  his  season.  Three 
years  later  I  offered  a  new  play  to  a  principal  London 
theatre.  The  manager  offered  me  ;^ioo  for  it.  In 
reply  to  my  objection  to  the  smallness  of  the  sum  he 
remarked,  "  I  can  go  to  Paris  and  select  a  first-class 
comedy  ;  having  seen  it  performed,  I  feel  certain  of 
its  effect.  To  get  this  comedy  translated  will  cost 
me  £,2^.  Why  should  I  give  you  ;^3oo  or  ;^5oo  for 
your  comedy  of  the  success  of  which  I  cannot  feel  so 
assured  ?  "  The  argument  was  unanswerable  and  the 


9°  MR.  AND  MRS.    DION  BOUCICAULT. 

result  inevitable.  I  sold  a  work  for  ;^ioo  that  took 
me  six  months'  hard  work  to  compose,  and  accepted 
a  commission  to  translate  three  French  plays  at  ^t^Q 
apiece.  This  work  afforded  me  child's  play  for  a 
fortnight.  Thus  the  English  dramatist  was  obliged 
either  to  relinquish  the  stage  altogether  or  to  become 
a  French  copyLst. 

Dion  Boucicault,  in  the  North  American  Review^ 
September,  1877. 

Mr.  Boucicault  with  his  four  hundred  plays  may 
be  regarded  as  one  of  the  most  prolific  writers  in  the 
whole  history  of  literature.  We  know  of  no  other 
pen  that  can  approach  his  in  this  respect.  There  are 
plenty  of  playwrights  who  have  written  plenty  of 
plays,  unaccepted,  and  never  likely  to  see  the  light  of 
the  foot-lights  ;  but  all  of  Mr.  Boucicault's  four 
hundred  plays  have  been  "  played,"  and  abused,  and 
derided,  and  played  again.  They  have  been  received 
as  standard,  and  are  likely  to  be  long  lived  ;  while 
some  of  his  characters  are  almost  destined  to  be  im- 
mortal. Jesse  Rural,  Dolly  Spanker,  and  Lady  Gay  we 
venture  to  assert  will  live  as  long  as  Sir  Anthony 
Absolute,  Lady  Teazle,  or  as   Tony  Lumpkin  himself. 

As  a  producer  of  plays  and  not  as  a  player,  will  Mr. 
Boucicault  be  remembered  by  posterity  ;  still  Mr, 
Boucicault  is  by  no  means  a  poor  player  :  his  Grim- 
aldi  in  his  own  *  Life  of  an  Actress,'  his  Nana  Sahib 
in  '  Jessie  Brown,'  his  Bernard  in  '  Pauvrette,'  his 
Spectre  in  the  *  Vampire,'  his  Counsel  for  the  Defence  in 
the  '  Heart  of  Midlothian,'  his  Myles-na-Coppaleen  in 
the  *  Colleen  Bawn,'  his  Mantalini  in  '  Smike,'  and 
his    Wah-no-iee  in  the    '  Octoroon,'  in    other    days, 


MR.   AND  MRS.   DION  BOUCICAULT.  9 1 

were  all  strongly  played  ;  while  in  these  days  his 
Daddy  O'Dowd,  his  Kerry,  and  his  Conn  the  Shaugh- 
raun  are  inimitable.  In  all  of  these  late  plays  in 
which  he  has  himself  assumed  the  central  and  titular 
part,  his  object,  he  claims,  has  been  to  elevate  the 
stage  Irishman  to  something  like  nature,  "  to  give  a 
truthful  stage  portraiture  of  Irish  life,  manner,  and 
character  ;  and  to  obliterate  the  gross  caricature  the 
public  had  received  from  the  stage — a  caricature  that 
had  been  mainly  instrumental  in  forming  a  popular 
and  very  false  impression  of  Irish  nature."  His 
Daddy  O'Dowd  we  consider  a  beautiful  bit  of  charac- 
ter acting,  equal  to  his  Kerry,  which  was  saying  very 
much  for  it,  and  fit  to  rank  with  Fisher's  Triplet  or 
Jefferson's  Rip   Van  Winkle. 

Laurence  Hutton  :  '  Plays  and  Players,'  chap. 
XXV.,  p.  208-10. 

There  has  been  no  play  since  '  Rip  Van  Winkle  * 
which  has  excited  so  much  interest  as  this,  and  no 
character  which  is  a  more  distinct  figure  in  the  mind 
than  the  Shaughraun.  He  is  an  Irish  good-for- 
nothing,  a  young  vagabond  who  is  as  idle  as  Rip  Van 
Winkle,  and  who  loves  the  bottle — not  to  Rip's  excess 
— and  who  by  his  nimble  wit  and  laughing,  careless 
courage  serves  to  good  purpose  a  pair  of  very  amiable 
lovers.  There  are  knaves  and  wretches  in  the  play,  and 
ladies  and  lovers,  and  soldiers  and  a  priest  and  old 
crones.  There  is  some  kind  of  istory,  as  there  is  in  an 
opera,  but  you  don't  remember  very  well  what  it  is.  It 
is  only  a  background  for  the  Shaughraun  to  sparkle  on. 
Some  grave  critic  remarked  that  as  a  play  it  had 
faults  ;  it  violated  canons  and  laws,  and  wanted  unity, 


92         MR.   AMD  MRS.   DIOM  BOUCICAVLT. 

and  did  many  things  which  it  seems  plays  ought  not 
to  do.  There  are  two  plots,  or  threads,  or  catastro- 
phes, and  the  mind,  it  appears,  is  distracted,  and  the 
whole  thing  could  have  been  much  better.  Ah  !  had  the 
painter  only  taken  more  pains  !  But,  on  the  other 
hand,  Mr.  Critic,  there  is  not  a  dull  word  or  a  drag- 
ging scene  in  it.  It  moves  from  beginning  to  end, 
and  it  is  pure  picture  and  romance  all  the  way.  There 
are,  indeed,  those  dreadful  moral  difficulties  which  we 
have  been  called  upon  to  consider  in  *  Rip  Van 
Winkle.'  Here  is  a  lazy  good-for-nothing,  who  has 
no  trade  or  profession,  or  even  employment,  who  has 
been  in  jail  for  his  tricks  more  than  once,  who  carries 
a  bottle  in  his  pocket,  and  poaches  and  fishes  at  his 
will,  and  he  carries  with  him  our  admiration  and 
sympathy,  and  puts  our  minds  into  any  mood"  but  that 
of  severity  and  reproof.  He  is  simple  and  generous 
and  sincere,  and  brave  and  faithful  and  affectionate, 
indeed,  but  he  is  a  mere  Shaughraun  after  all. 

Perhaps  the  only  plea  that  can  be  urged  in  the 
defence  is  that  the  play  leaves  us  more  kindly  and 
gentle.  But  if  you  return  to  the  charge,  and  ask 
whether  this  might  not  have  been  done  had  the  hero 
been  a  respectable  and  virtuous  young  man,  keeping 
regular  hours  and  reputable  society,  avoiding  strong 
liquors  and  vagabondage,  and  devoted  to  an  honest 
trade  or  a  learned  profession,  the  Easy  Chair  can 
only  ask  in  return  whether  Hamlet  might  not  have 
been  a  green-grocer.  The  charm  and  the  defence  of  the 
'  Shaughraun  '  are  those  of  •  Rip  Van  Winkle  ' — they 
are  its  humanizing  character  and  influence.  Here  is 
the  spectacle  of  knavery  brought  to  naught,  of  faith- 
ful love  rewarded,  and  all  by  means  of  simplicity,  gen- 


MR.  AND  MRS.    DTON  BOUCICAULT.  93 

erosity,  good-nature,  and  courage.  Things  are  very 
perplexing  if  that  is  immoral.  It  is,  in  fact,  a  poem,  a 
romance.  The  little  drama  is  wrought,  indeed,  with 
all  the  consummate  skill  of  the  most  experienced  and 
accomplished  of  play-writers.  The  resources  of  the 
stage,  machinery,  surprises,  'whatever  belongs  to 
effect,  are  all  brought  most  adroitly  into  play,  and  the 
spectator  is  compelled  to  admire  the  result  of  tact  and 
experience  in  the  construction  of  a  drama.  But  it 
all  deepens  the  romantic  impression.  The  scene  is 
Ireland,  the  story  is  one  of  love,  the  chief  actor  is  an 
Irishman  seen  by  the  imagination ;  and  it  is  one 
of  the  felicitous  touches  of  the  skill  with  which  the 
work  is  done  that  from  time  to  time,  when  the  spec- 
tator is  most  intent  and  his  imagination  is  all  aglow, 
there  is  a  faint  breath  from  the  orchestra,  a  waft  of 
wild,  pathetic  Irish  melody,  which  fills  the  mind  with 
vague  sadness  and  sympathy,  and  the  scene  with  a 
nameless  pensive  charm.  This  is  the  stroke  of  true 
humor — the  mingled  smile  and  tear. 

But  as  you  sit  and  watch  and  listen,  you  become 
more  and  more  aware  that  the  key-note  of  the  whole 
play  is  very  familiar,  and  even  what  the  Easy  Chair 
has  already  said  may  suggest  the  essential  resem- 
blance, which  gradually  becomes  fixed  and  absolute. 
Under  a  wholly  different  form,  under  circumstances 
entirely  changed,  in  another  time  and  country,  and 
with  a  myriad  divergences,  the  '  Shaughraun '  is  our 
old  friend  *  Rip  Van  Winkle.'  It  is  recognized  as 
readers  of  Browning  recognize  '  In  a  Spanish  Clois- 
ter '  in  the  dialect  poetry.  The  motive  of  the  two 
dramas  is  the  same — the  winning  vagabond.  In  the 
earlier  play  he  is  more  indolent  and  dreamy,  and  the 


94  MR.  AND   MRS.    DION  BOUCICAULT. 

human  story  naturally  fades  into  a  ghostly  tale ;  in 
the  latter  he  is  heroic  and  defined,  and  acts  only  within 
familiar  and  human  conditions.  As  a  study  of  the 
fine  art  of  play-writing,  you  can  easily  fancy,  as  the 
performance  proceeds,  that  an  accomplished  play- 
wright, pondering  the  great  and  true  and  permanent 
success  of  *  Rip  Van  Winkle,'  may  have  set  himself 
to  pluck  out  the  heart  of  its  mystery,  and  to  win  the 
same  victory  upon  another  field.  You  can  fancy  him 
sitting  unsuspected  in  the  parquet  on  Jefferson's 
nights,  intently  poring  upon  that  actor's  persona- 
tion of  the  character  that  he  has  "  created,"  studying 
it  with  a  talent  of  infinite  resource  for  the  object  in 
view,  and  gradually  reproducing,  under  a  wholly  new 
and  foreign  form,  the  fascination  of  a  spell  that  is 
peculiar  to  no  country  or  clime,  but  inheres  in  human 
nature.  It  is  doubtless  a  fancy  only,  but  it  holds 
with  singular  persistence.  What  is  the  Shaughraun 
but  a  jocund  Irish  Rip,  or  Rip  but  a  Shaughraun  of 
the  Catskill  ? 

George  William  Curtis,  in  Harper  s  Magazine, 
July,  1875. 


MR.  J.  S.  CLARKE. 


95 


Method  with  Clarke  has  ever  been  prime  factor, 

And  method  made  him  an  artistic  actor. 

Gifted  with  skill  to  seize  and  to  portray, 

He  gives  his  fine  mimetic  power  full  sway. 

Thus  finished  pictures  from  his  art  arise. 

Which  lure  the  mind  as  they  have  lured  the  eyes. 

A  low  comedian  of  that  better  school. 

That  does  not  think  a  laugh  bespeaks  a  fool. 

William  L.  Keesf. 


96 


MR.  J.  S.  CLARKE. 


In  the  year  1850  the  town  of  Belair,  Maryland,  was 
placarded  with  the  following  poster, — although  the 
townsfolk  may  not  have  derived  the  same  pleasure 
and  advantage  from  its  perusal  as  the  present  reader ; 
the  illiterate  negro  bill-sticker  having  posted  every 
one  upside  down  : 

GRAND    DRAMATIC    FESTIVAL 

AT   THE   COURT-HOUSE    IN   BELAIR, 

Saturday^  Aug.  2. 
In  compliance  with  the  request  of  several  gentlemen, 

MR.    EDWIN    BOOTH 

respectfully  informs  the  inhabitants  of  Belair  and   vicinity,  that 

he  will  give  one  entertainment  as  above,  in 

conjunction  with 

MR.    J.    S.    CLARKE. 

The  performance  will  consist  of 
SHAKSPEREAN   READINGS.   ETC. 


PART   FIRST. 
Selections  from  Richard  III. 

Richard  III Mr.  E.  Booth. 

Selections  from  Merchant  of  Venice. 
Shylock Mr.  J.  S.  Clarke. 

97 


9^  MR.   J.    S.    CLARKE. 

The  celebrated  dagger  scene  from  Macbeth. 

Macbeth Mr.  E.  Booth. 

^5l^ctions  from  Kotzebue's  Stranger. 

The  Stranger Mr.  J.  S.  Clarke. 

Hamlet's  Soliloquy  on  Death     ....     Mr.  E.  Booth. 
Selections  from  Otway's  tragedy  of  VENICE  Preserved. 

Jaffier Mr.  J.  S.  Clarke. 

Selections  from  Richelieu. 

Cardinal  Richelieu Mr.  E.  Booth. 

The  great  Quarrel  Scene  from  Julius  Caesar. 

Brutus    .     .     .     .     • Mr.  E.  Booth. 

Cassius Mr.  J.  S.  Clarke. 

PART  SECOND. 

Yankee   Stories,    Etc. 

Mr.  Clarke's  peculiar  illustration  of 

"A  Young  Man's  First  Appearance  as  an  Actor." 

Cards  of  Admission,  25  cents.     Children  under  twelve,  I2-J  cents. 

Doors  open  at  7  o'clock. 

Performance  to  begin  at  8. 

The  two  lads,  for  they  were  little  more,  who,  burn- 
ing with  dramatic  ardor,  had  not  only  undertaken  to 
present  such  a  programme  to  a  rural  audience,  unused 
to  any  entertainment  of  a  higher  order  than  a  travel- 
ling circus  or  conjurer,  but  had  also  ridden  fifty  miles 
under  an  August  sun  to  procure  printed  programmes 
and  tickets  in  Baltimore,  were  destined  both  of  them 
to  make  their  mark  in  the  dramatic  record  of  their 
time. 

Of  Edwin  Booth,  a  worthier  hand  than  mine  has 
more  worthily  written.  Mine  be  the  congenial  task  to 
chronicle  the  capers  of  comedy.     Comedy  ?  say  you, 


MR.    J.     S.    CLARKE.  99 

with  a  programme  like  that  confronting  you.  Yes, 
even  so ;  although  if  truth  be  told,  John  Sleeper 
Clarke,  like  many  another  heaven-sent  son  of  Thalia, 
with  his  lineage  stamped  on  every  line  of  his  mirth- 
provoking  countenance,  passed  through  a  period  of 
calf-love  for  the  sterner  muse. 

John  Sleeper  Clarke  was  born  in  Baltimore,  Mary- 
land, on  Sept.  3, 1833,  of  very  recent  English  extraction. 
His  grandfather,  Stephen  Clarke,  was^  a  London  mer- 
chant, and  his  mother  was  a  granddaughter  of  John 
King,  who  held  an  official  position  under  the  East 
India  Company. 

His  father  died  when  he  was  three  years  old,  and 
he  was  left  to  the  care  of  his  mother.  Part,  at  least, 
of  his  education  seems  to  have  been  received  at  the 
hands  of  a  Mr.  Kearney,  an  original  sort  of  peda- 
gogue, who  wrote  all  his  own  school  books,  and 
encouraged  his  pupils  in  their  juvenile  attempts  at 
dramatic  representation.  On  one  occasion,  Mrs. 
Clarke  records  that  Edwin  Booth  and  John  S.  Clarke, 
dressed  in  the  white  linen  trousers  and  black  jackets 
then  in  fashion,  recited,  or  rather  enacted,  with  appro- 
priate gestures,  the  quarrel  scene  of  Brutus  and 
Cassius.  The  elder  Booth  entered  the  crowded 
school-room  unobserved,  and,  seating  himself  on  the 
corner  of  a  bench  near  the  door,  witnessed  and  enjoyed 
the  performance.  So  that  the  Grand  Dramatic  Festi- 
val at  Belair  was  in  all  probability  by  no  means 
Mr.  Clarke's  first  clutch  at  histrionic  laurels. 

In  compliance  with  his  mother's  wishes  he  was 
educated  for  the  practice  of  the  law,  and  even  went  so 
far  as  to  enter  the  office  of  Elisha  B.  Sprague,  of  Balti- 
more, but  finally  abandoned  Themis  for  Thespis  in 


lOO  MR.   J.    S.     CLARKE. 

1 85 1,  when,  at  the  Howard  Athenaeum,  in  Boston,  he 
made  his  first  appearance  on  the  professional  stage,  as 
Frank  Hardy  in  '  Paul  Pry.'  One  cannot  help  wonder- 
ing with  what  feelings  the  future  comedian  regarded 
*the  performance  of  the  Paul  Pry  of  the  evening  ;  and 
how  much  he  may  have  unconsciously  owed  to  him, 
when  he  made  his  own  success  in  that  part.  His  first 
regular  engagement  was  at  the  old  Chestnut  Street 
Theatre  in  Philadelphia,  where  he  appeared  on  Aug.. 
28,  1852,  as  Soto  in  a  revival  of  Colley  Gibber's  play 
'  She  Wou'd  and  She  Wou'd  not.'  In  the  following 
January  he  succeeded  John  Drew,  the  elder,  as  leading 
comedian  of  the  theatre,  which  then  had  a  position 
only  comparable  to  that  held  by  Wallack's  in  New 
York,  a  rapid  rise  indeed  for  a  young  man  of  twenty, 
with  less  than  a  year's  experience  of  his  craft.  In 
1854  he  left  Philadelphia,  and  returned  to  his  native 
city,  as  first  low  comedian  of  the  Front  Street  Theatre. 
"  His  benefit  in  the  following  autumn  was  one  of  the 
most  memorable  events  in  Baltimore."  Thus  early 
and  securely  had  he  established  himself  as  a  favorite. 
In  Aug.,  1855,  he  returned  to  Philadelphia,  where  he 
became  leading  comedian  of  the  Arch  Street  Theatre, 
and  so  remained  until  June,  1858,  when  in  partnership 
with  Mr.  William  Wheatley,  he  assumed  the  reins  of 
management  for  the  first  time.  During  this  period 
he  occasionally  starred  through  the  South  with  great 
success. 

In  1859  his  connection  with  the  Booth  family, 
always  friendly,  was  cemented  by  his  marriage  with 
Asia,  daughter  of  Junius  Brutus  Booth  and  sister  of 
Edwin.  In  1861  he  retired  from  the  management  of 
the  Arch  Street  Theatre  and  took  the  great  step  in  an 


MR.    J.     S.     CLARKE.  lOI 

actor's  life — his  first  appearance  in  the  theatrical  me- 
tropolis. He  appeared  at  the  New  York  Theatre  and 
Metropolitan  Opera  House  on  May  15.  It  stood  in 
Broadway  opposite  Bond  Street,  and  on  the  site  of 
the  Metropolitan  or  Tripler  Hall,  originally  erected 
for  Jenny  Lind's  Concerts.  Mr.  Ireland  records  that 
his  first  part  was  Diggory  in  the  *  Spectre  Bridegroom,' 
and  that  he  was  received  with  hearty  applause.  "  He 
was  not  merely  a  success,  he  was  a  revelation."  Mr. 
George  William  Curtis  wrote  of  him  at  the  time  in 
Harper  s  Weekly :  "  I  consider  Clarke  by  far  the 
finest  artist  who  has  been  seen  on  our  boards  since 
Rachel."  The  name  of  the  theatre  was  subsequently 
changed  to  the  Winter  Garden  ;  and  on  Aug.  18, 
1864,  he  undertook  its  management  in  partnership  with 
William  Stuart,  and  his  brother-in  law,  Edwin  Booth. 
"  During  the  occupancy  of  the  Winter  Garden  Theatre 
by  Booth  and  Clarke,  the  latter  usually  acted  there 
from  the  month  of  August  until  Christmas,  Booth 
following  and  playing  until  Easter,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Barney  Williams  and  other  attractions  filling  the  inter- 
vening time.  John  S.  Clarke  sold  his  interest  to 
Booth,  and  retired  finally  from  the  management  early 
in  the  year  1867,  a  few  months  before  the  building  was 
burned."  During  the  season  of  1864  and  1865  he 
appeared  at  this  theatre  among  other  parts  as  Dromio 
of  Syracuse  in  the  '  Comedy  of  Errors,'  and  as  Smash- 
ington  in  *  Somebody's  Coat '  on  Oct.  3  ;  as  Paul 
Patent  in  '  Love  in  Livery  '  on  Oct.  10  :  as  Paul  Pry 
in  the  play  of  the  same  name  on  Oct.  24  ;  as  Bob 
Tyke  in  the  *  School  for  Reform  '  on  Oct.  25  ;  as 
Browriy  the  Broker.,  in  '  My  Neighbor's  Wife '  on 
Oct.  31  ;  in  the   four  characters  of  Jack  Sheppard^ 


102  MR.   J.    S.    CLARKE. 

Toby  Twinkle^  Simon  Purefoy  and  Timothy  Brown  on 
Nov.  5  ;  as  Jeremiah  Beetle  in  the  '  Babes  in  the 
Wood  '  on  Nov.  lo  ;  as  Bob  Brier ly  in  the  '  Ticket  of 
Leave  Man '  on  Nov.  12  ;  in  'Clarke  in  Russia'  as 
General  Jocco,  as  Jack  Humphrey  in  *  Turning  the 
Tables,'  as  Waddilove  in  '  To  Parents  and  Guard- 
ians'  on  Nov.  18  ;  and  as  Peter  Plumley'va  'Single 
Life/  and  as  Mr.  Dove  in  '  Married  Life,'  on  Nov- 
21.  During  this  same  brilliant  engagement  he  played 
Major  de  Boots  in  '  Everybody's  Friend,'  one  hundred 
nights,  and  he  played  Jack  Sheppard  and  Toodles  the 
same  number  of  times.  On  the  last  night  in  '  His 
Jack  Sheppard,'  Paul  Patent  in  '  Love  in  Livery,' 
Simon  Purefoy  and  Lord  Sparkle  in  '  A  Roland  for 
an  Oliver.' 

"  In  October,  1863,  the  Walnut  Street  Theatre  in 
Philadelphia  was  offered  for  sale.  At  such  a  preca- 
rious time,  during  a  disastrous  civil  war,  few  men  were 
willing  to  assume  so  great  a  risk  ;  but  John  S.  Clarke 
and  Edwin  Booth  conjointly  ventured  to  make  the  pur. 
chase,  feeling  that  they  would  be  lucky  to  be  able  to 
pay  for  it  entirely  in  thirteen  years.  This  they  did, 
however,  in  three !  In  January,  1866,  Booth  and 
Clarke  obtained  the  lease  of  the  Boston  Theatre  at  a 
rental  of  sixteen  thousand  dollars  a  year.  Offers  as 
high  as  twenty-six  thousand  dollars  were  made  by 
other  parties,  but  the  directors  preferred  these  two 
gentlemen,  who  managed  now  conjointly  three  first- 
class  theatres  in  the  three  principal  cities." 

It  is  not  generally  known  that  Mr.  Clarke  made  a 
visit  to  London  in  1862,  under  an  engagement  to  Mr. 
Dion  Boucicault  to  appear  there,  but  for  some  unex- 
plained reason  the  comedian  returned  to  his  native 


MR.   J.    S.    CLARKE.  103 

land  without  having  played.  So  that  it  was  not  until 
October,  1867,  that  he  made  his  bow  before  a  London 
audience.  This  was  at  the  St.  James's  Theatre,  in  the 
character  oi  Major  Wellington  de  Boots ^  which  he  had 
already  played  over  a  thousand  times  in  his  native 
country,  two  hundred  and  fifty  or  more  performances 
having  been  given  in  New  York  alone.  His  triumph  was 
as  instantaneous  in  the  English  as  in  the  American 
metropolis  ;  in  all  probability  no  American  actor  ever 
won,  or  kept  so  enduringly,  such  a  distinguished  posi- 
tion on  the  English  stage  as  Mr.  Clarke.  It  is  said 
that  he  visited  England  with  his  wife  and  family  **  on 
pleasure  bent,"  and  he  had  certainly  no  intention  of 
remaining.  His  success,  however,  was  so  great  that 
it  would  have  been  folly  not  to  reap  such  a  crop 
while  the  sun  of  public  favor  shone  so  brightly.  In 
spite,  therefore,  of  the  fact  that  he  had  one  American 
Theatre — the  Walnut  Street,  Philadelphia — still  on  his 
hands,  he  settled  down  in  London.  Charles  Dickens 
was  delighted  with  him,  and  his  voice  was  but 
one  of  thousands.  In  February,  1868,  he  played 
Salem  Scudder  in  the  '  Octoroon  '  at  the  Princess's 
Theatre ;  and  then  went  on  a  tour  through  the 
English  provinces,  appearing  with  great  success 
in  Edinburgh,  Liverpool,  Birmingham,  Dublin,  Bel- 
fast, etc. 

His  name  was  long  associated  with  that  of  the  Strand 
Theatre,  in  London,  where  he  played  Doctor  Fangloss 
in  the  *  Heir-at-Law,'  Ollapod  in  the  '  Poor  Gentleman,' 
Robert  Tyke  in  the  '  School  of  Reform,'  and  Babbing- 
ton  Jones  in  '  Among  the  Breakers.'  In  all  of  these 
he  achieved  distinguished  success,  his  Doctor  Fangloss 
being  always  one  of  his  most  favorite  characters  ;  but 


I04  MR.   /.    S.    CLARKE. 

even  this  was  effaced  by  his  performance  of  Toodles, 
which  was  hailed  with  delight  as  his  most  perfect 
impersonation.  It  ran  for  two  hundred  nights  on  its 
first  production  at  the  Strand. 

On  April  17,  1870,  he  reappeared  in  New  York,  and 
was  welcomed  with  a  perfect  ovation.  He  played  for 
forty-two  nights,  to  enormous  business,  the  receipts 
for  the  first  week  alone  exceeding  $10,000.  He  then 
visited  Chicago,  St.  Louis,  Louisville,  Cincinnati, 
l^ittsburg,  Baltimore,  Brooklyn,  Buffalo,  Hartford, 
New  Haven  and  Philadelphia,  playing  everywhere  to 
crowded  and  delighted  houses.  In  Philadelphia, 
where  he  had  made  his  earliest  triumphs,  the  welcome 
given  to  their  old  favorite  was  so  enthusiastic,  that 
although  his  engagement  was  for  fifty  nights,  the  or- 
chestra had  to  be  removed  to  accommodate  the  num- 
bers that  flocked  to  see  him.  The  following  year  he 
returned  to  London  for  a  summer  season  at  the  Strand 
Theatre,  opening  there  on  July  29,  187 1,  as  Dr.  Fan- 
gloss  in  the  *  Heir  at  Law,'  which  ran  for  one  hundred 
and  fifty  nights.  In  December,  he  returned  to  America, 
and  during  this  visit  he  and  the  late  Edward  Sothern 
played  alternately,  at  two  theatres  in  Philadelphia  on 
the  same  evening.  Mr.  Clarke  would  begin  his  per- 
formance at  the  Arch  Street  Theatre  with  Dr.  Fan- 
gloss  and  Mr.  Sothern  at  the  Walnut  Street  Theatre 
with  Lord  Dundreary.  Then  Mr.  Sothern  would  skip 
to  the  Arch  and  personate  Dundreary  married, 
while  Mr.  Clarke,  hurrying  to  the  Walnut,  would  close 
the  evening's  programme  with  Toodles.  During  this 
time  the  prices  were  doubled,  but  notwithstanding 
that  fact  both  theatres  were  crowded  nightly  for  two 
weeks. 


MR.   J.    S.    CLARKE.  105 

On  March  9,  1872,  he  again  appeared  at  the  Strand 
Theatre  and  played  Ollapod  in  the  *  Poor  Gentleman  ' 
for  sixty  nights,  which  he  followed  with  Paxil  Pry 
for  a  few  weeks  in  the  summer.  In  1872  he  became 
manager  of  what  was  then  the  Charing  Cross  Theatre 
(now  known  as  Toole's)  in  London,  and  opened  it 
with  the  *  Rivals,'  giving  his  delicious  performance  of 
Bob  Acres  for  the  first  time  in  London.  The  produc- 
tion was  a  great  success  both  artistically  and  financially, 
and  ran  for  one  hundred  and  twenty-seven  nights.  It 
was  followed  by  other  of  his  favorite  characters  ;  and 
he  subsequently  played  with  brilliant  success  through- 
out the  English  provinces.  On  April  4,  1874,  he  made 
another  London  success  as  Phineas  Pettiphogge  in  H. 
J.  Byron's  '  Thumbscrew,'  at  the  Holborn  Theatre. 

In  the  autumn  of  1878,  Mr.  Clarke  became  lessee  of 
the  Haymarket  Theatre,  but  did  not  act  there  himself, 
until  April,  1879,  when,  in  consequence  of  a  failure, 
he  appeared  for  a  short  time  as  Bob  Acres  and  Toadies. 
On  Sept.  25,  he  played  Dr.  Pangloss  in  the  '  Heir-at- 
Law,'  and  five  days  later  his  management  concluded. 
His  next  appearance  in  London  was  again  at  the 
Haymarket  for  a  short  summer  season,  commencing 
Sept.  20,  in  1880,  asZ>/;«//^in  '  Leap  Year,' and  J/^'^r 
Wellington  de  Boots.  On  Oct.  18,  this 'gave  place  to  the 
'  Rivals,'  with  Mr.  Clarke  as  Acres.  He  spent  part  of 
1 88 1  in  America. 

The  Strand  Theatre,  enlarged  and  redecorated, 
opened  on  Nov.  18, 1882,  with  the  '  Heir-at-Law,'  and  a 
new  burlesque  by  H.  J.  Byron  and  H,  B.  Farnie  called 
'  Frolique,'  in  which  Mr.  Clarke  played  Pierre  Coquil- 
Ian.  On  Jan.  18,  1883,  the  '  Comedy  of  Errors'  was 
revived  at  this  house,  with  Messrs.  Clarke  and  Paul- 


lo6  MR.   J.    S.    CLARKE. 

ton  as  the  two  Dromtos, — it  was  impossible  to  say 
which  of  the  two  was  less  like  the  other.  It  was  not 
till  April,  1885,  that  he  re-appeared  again  at  the  same 
theatre,  playing  Z>^  ^tf^/j.  On  July  11,  he  played  a 
new  part,  Cousin  Johnny  in  a  comedy  of  the  same  name, 
by  J.  F.  Nisbet  and  C.  Masham  Rae,  also  at  the  Strand. 
"  The  burden  of  the  piece  fell  on  his  shoulders,  but 
even  his  droll  acting  failed  to  galvanize  the  play  into 
success."  Then  he  appeared  in  a  play  by  F.  C.  Bur- 
nand, '  Just  in  Time,'  produced  at  the  Avenue  Theatre, 
Nov.  12,  1885,  which  was  also  a  failure.  These 
meteor-like  visits  to  the  London  stage  have  been 
parts  of  an  orbit  of  provincial  starring,  in  which  he 
has  always  been  uniformly  successful.  His  last  ap- 
pearance in  New  York  was  during  the  year  1879, 
when  he  played  Toodles,  Major  de  Boots  and  Dr. 
Pangloss  for  a  season  at  the  Fifth  Avenue  Theatre. 

This  brings  the  history  of  an  unusually  busy  career 
"  up  to  date  "  ;  and  with  a  keen  feeling  of  gratitude 
for  past  enjoyment,  we  look  forward  to  much  more  to 
come.  Mr.  Clarke  is  still  at  the  zenith  of  his  powers  ; 
and  though  an  ample  fortune  acquired  in  the  exercise 
of  his  art  may  dispose  him  to  "  retired  leisure,"  yet 
for  such  a  performer  there  are  ever  new  audiences, 
who  clamor  for  his  mirth-compelling  presence. 

Edw.  Hamilton  Bell. 


It  is  no  mere  assumption  of  external  oddities  that 
can  produce  two  such  personalities  as  Bob  Tyke  and 
Toodles.  He  has  caught  the  spirit  which  colors 
every  feature  of  his  former  remarkable  personation — 


MR.   J.    S.    CLARKE.  107 

which  made  Fechter  describe  him  when  he  saw  it  as 
an  English  Frederic  Lemaitre,  and  all  the  strange 
unctuous  drollery  of  the  latter.  The  plastic  sensibility 
of  mind  which  enables  the  player  to  become  another 
being  on  the  instant  is  a  gift  of  nature,  though  it 
may  be  improved  by  study  and  practice.  Mr.  Clarke 
possesses  an  innate,  pliant  mobility  that  enables  him 
momentarily  to  assume  a  certain  condition  of  humanity. 
The  elasticity  of  this  faculty,  his  native  humor  and 
power  of  mimicry, — the  mimicry  of  character  and 
modes  of  thought  and  feeling,  not  of  personal  peculiar- 
ities merely,  and  of  the  various  forms  and  degrees  of  na- 
tural drollery — have  always  given  variety  to  his  acting 
His  forte  is  the  imitation  of  humanity  as  seen  in 
every-day  life  ;  and  everywhere  in  this  wide  range  he 
seems  to  be  at  home.  He  endeavors  to  be  natural  by 
being  the  character  he  assumes  ;  and  the  secret  of  his 
great  success  we  believe  to  be  that  he  experiences  for 
the  time  the  emotions,  comic  or  otherwise,  which  he 
depicts,  and  is  for  the  moment  the  person  he  rep- 
resents. It  has  always  seemed  to  us  that  in  forming 
his  personations  he  unfolded  from  the  germ  of  the 
dramatist's  idea  a  visible  shape,  clothed  in  the  external 
attributes  of  some  person  who  may  have  crossed  his 
path,  and  whose  image  is  recalled  by  some  analogy  of 
nature.  We  are  confirmed  in  this  notion  by  knowing 
that  in  creating  such  a  real  and  original  person  as  De 
Boots  he  did  so  by  mimicking  a  real  person  whose 
manner  accorded  with  the  characteristics  of  the  dram- 
atist's sketch  ;  and  some  of  the  best  bits  in  '  Toodles ' 
we  know  to  have  been  taken  from  living  subjects. 
His  by-play  in  both  these  performances  surpasses  that 
of  any  comedian  we  have  ever  seen.     He  fills  up  the 


lo8  MR.   J.     S.     CLARKE. 

pauses  of  the  dialogue  by  a  number  of  trivial  and 
unimportant  actions,  performed  with  so  much  ease  and 
address  that  they  seem  habitual  and  unconsciously 
done,  always  tending  to  preserve  the  illusion  of  the 
scene  or  develop  minor  traits  of  character,  and  never 
appearing  forced.  Clarke  rivets  attention  by  what  he 
does  ;  he  does  not  invite  notice  to  what  he  is  about  ; 
there  is  no  note  of  preparation  sounded,  no  intimation 
given  to  watch  his  movements,  nor  are  they  exagger- 
ated for  effect  at  a  distance. 

William  Stuart,  in  Lippincotf s  Magazine,  Novem- 
ber, 1881. 

The  purpose  of  the  revival  is  obviously  to  furnish 
Mr.  John  S.  Clarke,  the  American  comedian,  with  a 
new  part  of  strongly  marked  character.  He  plays 
Dr.  Fangloss,  and  takes  a  view  of  that  model  tutor 
which  is  perfectly  consistent  with  the  text,  and  which 
affords  occasion  for  the  display  of  the  broadest 
humor.  According  to  Mr.  Clarke,  Fangloss  is  not  a 
dry  pedant,  but  a  genial  swindler  with  pedantic  em- 
bellishments, who  has  the  greatest  difficulty  in  con- 
cealing the  delight  afforded  by  the  triumphant  suc- 
cess of  his  own  dishonesty.  An  urbane  man,  too  ! 
He  chuckles  inwardly  at  the  cacology  of  his  noble 
patron,  but  he  corrects  his  mistakes  with  the  utmost 
delicacy,  rather  suggesting  than  demanding  an 
amendment,  the  embodied  spirit  of  insinuation.  On 
one  occasion  only  is  he  thoroughly  grave,  and  that  is 
when  he  is  compelled  by  Dick  Dowlas  to  dance  in  the 
streets,  and  he  sees  in  that  dance  the  ruin  of  his  pros- 
pects.    The  legs  partially  move,  but  the  face  is  sad. 

The  Times,  London,  Feb.  7,  1870. 


MR.  J.    S.     CLARKE.  109 

But  of  the  twin  Clarke — J.  S., — what  is  to  be  said  ? 
Such  an  emollient  face,  surely  such  rich  enjoyment 
and  fun,  is  seldom  seen.  The  rapidity  with  which  the 
changes  are  made,  the  return  from  boisterous  laughter 
to  instant  gravity, — in  this  he  is  unique.  A  favor- 
ite device  of  his  is  known  to  us  all ;  a  sort  of  chuck- 
ling is  going  on,  the  unctuous  face  is  rippling  in 
waves  of  enjoyment,  he  is  getting  familiar,  when  some 
remark  is  made, — an  allusion  to  a  wife  of  whom  he  is 
in  awe,  when,  in  a  second,  a  livid  terror  fills  his  face. 
His  eyes  roll,  his  lips  take  an  O  shape,  as  if  anxious 
to  form  words  but  cannot,  his  cheeks  become  red  and 
distended,  he  seems  hot  with  alarm.  This  change  the 
play-goer  will  recall.  His  Major  de  Boots  is  full  of 
such  ;  and  there  is  nothing  more  diverting  on  the  stage 
than  the  gravity  of  his  face  and  tones,  as  he  reads,  or 
attempts  to  read,  the  letter  at  the  end  of  the  piece. 

Percy  Fitzgerald  :  The  '  World  behind  the 
Scenes,'//.  118-9. 

On  Thursday,  June  27,  1872,  at  the  Strand,  he  per- 
formed the  part  of  Paul  Pry  in  Poole's  well-known 
comedy.  During  the  several  seasons  Mr.  Clarke  has 
played  in  London  he  has  taken  up,  one  after  the 
other,  most  of  the  leading  characters  of  broad  comedy. 
His  representations,  depending  largely  upon  facial 
play,  have  a  generic  likeness,  and  it  is  rather  by  aid 
of  such  accessories  as  costume  than  by  means  of  any 
special  portrayal  of  character  that  the  spectator  dis- 
tinguishes one  from  the  other.  The  impersonation  of 
Paul  Pry,  the  hero  of  Poole's  well-known  comedy, 
has  much  in  common  with  his  Dr.  Ollapod  and  Dr. 
Pangloss.     In  absolute  extravagance  of  drollery  Mr, 


no  MR.    /.     .?.    CLARKE. 

Clarke  approaches  nearer  Listen  perhaps   tha'n  any 
subsequent  interpreter  of  the  character  first  named. 

Chas.  Eyre  Pascoe  :  The  *  Dramatic  List' — J.  S. 
Clarke. 

Of  his  best  known  impersonations  I  can  only  say  a 
few  words  in  closing  this  sketch.  His  De  Boots  is  one 
of  the  most  delightful  characterizations  of  'a  good- 
humored  poltroon,  whose  soldierly  swagger  is  at  odds 
with  his  bantam-like  person,  feeble  voice  and  satisfied 
pomp  of  manner.  His  Young  Gosling  is  a  rare  piece 
of  drollery,  illustrating  various  stages  of  inebriety  and 
a  rich  display  of  pusillanimity  in  carrying  out  the  due^ 
which  he  has  provoked.  His  Babhington  Jones  is  a 
skilful  delineation  of  the  character  of  a  groom  whose 
comical  mishaps  he  accompanies  with  a  capital  change 
of  feature  and  gesture.  His  Toodles  is  a  masterly 
representation  of  a  drunken  countryman  who  tries  to 
maintain  his  self-respect  under  the  most  discouraging 
and  ridiculous  surroundings.  His  Dr.  Pangloss  is  a 
study  true  to  nature  and  a  work  of  art  which  has 
placed  it  on  the  same  high  plane  as  the  efforts  of  the 
renowned  comedians  of  the  past  in  this  character, 
l^\s  Dr.  Ollapod  diX\di  Bob  Acres  are  distinguished  for 
the  same  high  order  of  acting,  and  that  is  the  highest 
possible  praise  that  could  be  given  them 

Brooklyn  Eagle,  Nov.  15,  1885. 

Mr.  Clarke's  power  as  a  comedian  chiefly  lies,  and  is 
shown  to  the  best  advantage,  in  characters  which  he 
has  solely  created.  Take,  for  example,  his  rendition 
of  Salem  Scudder,  Bob  Tyke,  Waddilove  and  De  Boots, 
parts  which,  for  his  fame's  sake  and  the  public's  enter- 


MR.  J.    S.    CLARKE.  m 

tainment,  he  plays  less  frequently  than  he  should. 
The  first  of  these  impersonations  is  a  pure  creation  of 
his  genius, — and  the  same  remark  will  apply  equally 
well  to  the  last  two, — full  of  the  finest  conceptions, 
and  played  with  such  exquisite  judgment  and  mean- 
ing as  to  place  him  among  the  first  of  living  players. 
In  that  scene  in  the  '  Octoroon '  where  he  has  the 
struggle  for  life  with  the  brutal  overseer,  whose  knife 
he  has  wrenched  from  his  hand,  and  whom  he  is 
pressing  to  the  earth  with  his  knee  fixed  on  his  breast, 
he  rises  above  the  ruffian  the  very  picture  of  retribu- 
tive justice.  At  first  it  seems  right  that  he  should 
kill  the  murderous  scoundrel,  and  he  tells  him  in  those 
low,  thrilling  tones  that  he  feels  tempted  to  do  it. 
"  Then  why  don't  you  ? "  asks  the  surly  woman- 
whipper.  Nothing  can  be  finer,  fuller  of  dignity  and 
repressed  power,  than  Salem  Scuddersrt\Ay,  which  is 
so  spoken  as  to  seem  the  protest  of  all  mankind 
against  the  Devil's  code  of  law,  the  bowie-knife  and 
pistol  :  "  Because,"  he  slowly,  almost  regretfully, 
says — "  because  the  spirit  of  civilization  within  me 
won't  let  me  do  it."  And  as  he  says  it,  the  spectator 
can  see  that  "  the  spirit  of  civilization  "  is  having  a 
tough  struggle  with  that  wandering  Yankee  for  the 
slave-driver's  blood  ;  but  civilization  conquers,  and 
he  removes  his  knee,  letting  the  miscreant  go.  The 
whole  scene  is  exquisitely  rendered,  and  is  worthy  of 
the  highest  commendation.  As  Bob  Tyke^  another 
eccentric  character,  not  strictly  belonging  to  comedy, 
he  displays  throughout  the  same  rarely  beautiful 
traits  of  restrained  power.  But  we  are  afraid  that 
Mr.  Clarke  considers  these  characters  beneath  his 
care,  and  they  are   falling  out  of  his  repertoire ;  yet 


112  MR.  J.    S.    CLARKE. 

they  are,  as  he  plays  them,  portraits  strong  as  a  Titian 
drew. 

Atlantic  Monthly,  June,  1867. 

John  S.  Clarke  is  the  heir  in  genius  of  Harry  Wood- 
ward and  John  Emery,  and  more  versatile  and  brilliant 
than  either. 

William  Winter  :  The  '  Jeffersons,' /.  226. 


MR.  AND  MRS.  FLORENCE. 


"3 


Lustrous  beacons  of  the  stage 
In  a  fickle,  feverish  age  ; 
Striving  on  with  honest  heart 
For  the  claims  and  aims  of  Art 

Twin  stars  —  circling  year  by  year  — 
Radiant  o'er  a  hemisphere  ; 
Models  of  the  good  and  pure  ; 
May  your  influence  long  endure. 

Thomas  E.  Garrett. 


114 


MR.  AND  MRS.  FLORENCE. 


William  Jermyn  Florence,  like  so  many  of  the  stars 
of  his  profession,  began  to  twinkle  on  the  amateur 
stage.  Born  in  Albany,  N.  Y.,  on  July  26,  1831,  he 
drifted  to  New  York  before  he  was  fifteen  years  of 
age  ;  and  while  his  days  were  spent  in  honest,  prosaic 
toil  for  daily  bread,  his  nights  were  devoted  to  tragedy, 
comedy,  scene  individable,  and  poem  unlimited  un- 
der the  auspices  of  the  Murdoch  Dramatic  Associa- 
tion of  that  city.  He  soon  found  his  way  upon  the 
regular  boards,  and  made  his  maiden  bow  to  the  public 
as  Peter  in  the  *  Stranger  '  at  the  theatre  at  Richmond, 
Va.,  on  December  6,  1849.  In  the  spring  of  the  fol- 
lowing year  he  became  a  member  of  the  company  at 
Niblo's  Garden,  under  the  management  of  Brougham 
and  Chippendale,  and  as  Hallagon^  a  small  part  in  a 
drama  by  Brougham  called '  Home,'  first  appeared  as 
a  professional  actor  in  New  York,  May  13,  1850.  At 
this  house  he  was  associated  during  the  season  with 
Mary  Taylor,  Mrs.  Vernon,  Mrs.  John  Sefton,  Fanny 
Wallack,  Charlotte  Cushman,  Burton,  Brougham  and 
Placide.  When  Mr.  Brougham  opened  the  Lyceum 
(afterward  Wallack's  Theatre,  and  the  Broadway 
Theatre)  on  the  corner  of  Broadway  and  Broome 
Street,  New  York,  on  December  23,  1850,  Mr.  Flor- 
ence appeared  in  an  after-piece  of  absurdity,  called  the 

"5 


Ii6  MR.   AND    MRS.   FLORENCE. 

*  Light  Guard,  or  Woman's  Rights  '  ;  and  he  made  his 
first  decided  hit  at  this  .establishment  on  April  22,  1851, 
in  the  *  Row  at  the  Lyceum,'  where  he  appeared  as  a 
red-shirted  fire-laddie  of  that  period,  and  at  once 
asserted  himself  as  more  than  a  mere  utility  man  or 
second  walking  gentleman,  and  fit  for  better  things 
than  the  commonplace  parts  that  had  hitherto  been 
assigned  to  him.  During  the  season  following  he  was 
at  the  Broadway  Theatre,  New  York  (the  original  of 
that  name,  between  Anthony,  since  Worth  Street,  and 
Pearl  Street),  opening  on  Aug.  30,  1852,  as  Lord 
Tinsel  to  the  Julia  of  Julia  Dean  and  the  Master  Walter 
of  F.  B.  Conway,  later  supporting  Forrest,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Barney  Williams  and  Mrs.  Mowatt.  On  Janu- 
ary I,  1853,  he  married  Miss  Malvina  Pray,  with 
whom  he  has  since  been  so  pleasantly  and  so  profit- 
ably associated  during  a  long  and  honorable  dramatic 
career. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Florence  as  the  Irish  Boy  and 
Yankee  Girl  were  first  discovered  in  the  dramatic 
horizon  as  a  double  star  at  the  National  Theatre, 
Chatham  Street,  New  York,  on  June  13,  1853,  where 
they  met  at  once  with  the  great  success  which  followed 
them  on  their  extensive  tour  throughout  the  United 
States.  In  1856  they  first  appeared  at  Drury  Lane, 
when  Mrs.  Florence,  as  a  specimen  of  American  Help, 
in  the  '  Yankee  Housekeeper,'  a  new  figure  on  the 
English  stage,  amused  and  entertained  London  au- 
diences for  a  season  of  fifty  nights.  Mr.  Florence's 
first  marked  success  in  a  more  serious  part  was  his  Bob 
Brierly  in  the  *  Ticket  of  Leave  Man '  produced 
originally  in  America  at  the  Winter  Garden,  New 
York,  Nov.    30,  1863,  Mrs.    Florence   playing  Emily 


MR.    A. YD    MRS.    FLORE. VCE.  II7 

St.  Evremonde.  The  drama,  admirably  presented  in 
all  its  parts,  created  a  sensation  almost  without  pre- 
cedent in  the  United  States,  and  ran  for  an  hundred 
and  twenty-five  successive  nights  in  New  York,  and  tor 
thousands  of  nights  elsewhere  throughout  the  coun- 
try. On  Aug.  5,  1867,  at  the  theatre  on  the  corner 
of  Broadway  and  Broome  Street,  Mr.  Florence  pro- 
duced Robertson's '  Caste  ' — first  time  m  America — an 
almost  perfect  play  perfectly  played.  Mr.  Florence 
as  George  D'Alroy  was  the  ideal,  honest,  modest, 
manly  soldier,  who  combined  simple  faith  with  Norman 
blood,  and  whose  kind  heart  adorned  his  coronet  ; 
while  Mrs.  Florence,  with  a  delightful  and  conspicuous 
lack  of  that  repose  of  manner  which  stamps  the  caste 
of  Vere  de  Vere,  was  worth,  as  Folly  Eccles,  several 
hundred  coats-of-arms. 

'  Caste  '  was  followed  on  September  28,  1868,  and 
at  the  same  house,  by  *  No  Thoroughfare,'  when  Mr. 
Florence  introduced  Obenreizer  to  the  American  stage, 
in  his  hands  a  very  clever  piece  of  character  acting,  en- 
tirely unlike  D'Alroy,  Brierly,  Captain  Cuttle,  Mose,  or 
the  Irish  Emigrant,  by  which  he  had  hitherto  been  so 
well  known.  Mrs.  Florence  did  not  appear  in  this 
drama. 

In  1875  Mr.  Florence  created  Bardwell  Slote  in 
Mr.  B.  E.  Woolf's  '  Mighty  Dollar,'  an  original  char- 
acter, fresh,  quaint,  and  entirely  possible  in  real  life, 
who  is  destined  to  walk  down  to  posterity  arm  in  arm 
with  Rip  Van  Winkle,  Joe  Bunker,  Solon  Shingle, 
Davy  Crocket,  and  Colonel  Sellers,  the  typical  stage 
American  of  the  Nineteenth  Century,  Mr.  Florence's 
most  enduring  character,  by  a  large  majority.  As 
Mrs.  General  Gilflory  in  the  '  Mighty  Dollar,'  Mrs. 
Florence   was   a  fit  mate  for  the  m.  o.  o.  ("  man  of 


ri8  MR.   AND    MRS.    FLORENCE. 

honor  ")  with  whom  she  was  associated  ;  not  destined 
to  live  so  long,  perhaps,  as  the  member  from  the 
Cohosh  district,  but  quite  as  delightful  in  her  way. 
In  September,  1883,  Mr.  Florence  produced  Geo.  H. 
Jessop's  '  Our  Govenor,'  under  the  title  of  '  Facts,'  at 
the  Walnut  Street  Theatre  in  Philadelphia.  Its  name 
was  changed  the  following  season. 

Mr.  Florence  has  been  seen  in  many  characters, 
and  has  been  associated  with — supporting  or  sup- 
ported by — some  of  the  most  prominent  members  of 
his  profession  on  both  sides  the  Atlantic.  His  name 
has  appeared  in  bills  by  the  side  of  Barrett,  McCul- 
lough,  Raymond,  Burton,  Brougham  and  Toole.  He 
has  played  Trip  to  the  Lady  Teazle  of  Mrs.  Catherine 
Sinclair  (Forrest),  Captain  Cuttle  to  the  Mr.  Dombey 
of  Henry  Irving,  Richmond  and  Laertes  with  the 
elder  Booth,  Titus  and  Lucullus  with  Edwin  Forrest, 
and  at  the  Academy  of  Music,  New  York,  October  12, 
1877,  for  the  benefit  of  Edwin  Adams,  he  played  lago 
to  the  Othello  of  E.  A.  Sothern,  the  Desdemona  of 
Lotta,  and  the  Emilia  of  Mrs.  John  Drew. 

Mrs.  Florence,  a  daughter  of  Samuel  Pray,  who 
lost  his  life  by  fire  at  the  old  Broadway  Theatre,  New 
York,  was  known  as  Miss  Mavina,  a  dancer  at 
the  Vauxhall  Garden,  Bowery,  and  at  Burton's  and 
Wallack's  Theatres,  New  York.  She  rarely  appeared 
in  speaking  parts  until  she  became  Mrs.  Florence, 
in  1853,  although  she  is  remembered  as  playing 
Little  Pickle  in  the  '  Adopted  Child,'  at  Pelby's  Na- 
tional Theatre,  Boston.  The  story  of  her  career  since 
her  marriage  has  been  told  with  that  of  her  husband 
in  the  preceding  pages. 

Laurence  Hutton. 


MR.    AND    MRS.    FLORE ArCE.  1 10 

The  curtain  rose  to  a  crowded  house  on  a  scene  at 
rehearsal,  after  the  manner  of  Sheridan's  '  Critic  * ;  the 
actors  and  actresses,  in  their  ordinary  street  dresses, 
looking  in  every  respect  like  the  not  more  than 
ordinary  men  and  women  they  really  were,  when  paint 
and  tinsel,  sock  and  buskin,  were  discarded,  dropping 
in  casually  like  other  ordinary  mortals  on  business 
bent,  to  read  and  discuss  Carlyle's  new  and  wonderful 
production. 

It  was  the  green-room  proper  of  a  theatre,  with  all 
the  green-room  accessories  and  surroundings,  the 
scenes  and  incidents,  concords  and  discords  of  a 
green-room  gathering  ;  and  was  as  heartily  enjoyed 
by  the  Lyceum  audience  as  would  one  of  Wallack's 
famous  Saturday  night  houses  of  the  present,  enjoy 
being  invited  to  visit  en  masse  that  unknown  and 
mysterious  land  contained  behind  the  scenes,  and  to 
assist  at  Mr.  Boucicault's  reading  of  the  *  Shaughraun ' 
to  the  assembled  company  for  the  first  time. 

Mr.  Dunn  as  Mr.  Diinti,  Tom  the  Call  Boy  as  Tom, 
and  Mrs.  Vernon  as  Mrs.  Vernon,  were  yery  natural 
of  course  and  very  funny.  As  it  was  Tom's  first 
appearance  before  the  curtain  in  any  character,  he 
was  not  a  little  excited,  and  his  very  evident  con- 
sciousness was  as  amusing  and  refreshing  as  was  the 
self-possession  of  the  rest  of  the  dramatis  per sonce. 

The  audience  was  thoroughly  interested  and  amused 
at  the  realism  of  the  performance,  when,  '-  Enter  Mrs. 
B.,"  the  scene  changes,  and  the  '  Row  at  the  Lyceum ' 
begins.  While  she  greets  her  friends,  looks  over  her 
part,  objects  to  her  business,  and  lays  her  claims  to 
something  more  in  her  line,  a  stout,  middle-aged 
gentleman,  seated  in  the  middle  of  the  pit,  clothed  in 


I20  MR.    AXD   MRS.    FLORENCE. 

a  Quakerish  garb,  who  had  hitherto  quietly  listened 
and  laughed  with  the  rest,  rises  suddenly  in  his  place, 
with  umbrella  clasped  firmly  in  both  hands,  and  held 
up  on  a  line  with  his  nose,  to  the  astonishment  of  the 
house,  calmly  and  sedately  addresses  the  stage  and 
the  house,  in  words  to  this  effect:  "That  woman 
looks  for  all  the  world  like  Clementina  !  Her  voice 
is  very  like — the  form  the  same."  And  then,  with 
emphasis  :  "  It  is  !  it  is  !  my  wife  !  "  at  the  same  time 
leaving  his  seat  in  great  excitement,  he  rushes  toward 
the  foot-lights,  and  cries  wildly  and  loudly,  "  Come  off 
that  stage,  thou  miserable  woman  !  " 

The  utmost  confusion  quickly  reigned  in  the  theatre. 
The  audience,  at  first  amused  at  the  interruption, 
seeing  that  the  Quaker  gentleman  was  in  earnest,  soon 
took  sides  for  or  against  him,  and  saluted  him  with  all 
sorts  of  encouraging  and  discouraging  cries  as  he 
fought  his  way  toward  the  orchestra.  "  Who  is  he  ? " 
"  Who  is  she  ? "  "  Shame  !  shame  !  "  "  Put  him 
out !  "  "  Go  it.  Broadbrim  !  "  "  Sit  down  !  "  ''  Police  !  " 
Hootings,  hissings,  cat-calls,  making  the  scene  as 
tumultuous  as  can  be  well  imagined.  The  boys  in  the 
gallery,  delighted  at  the  "  Row,"  in  which,  from  their 
distance,  they  could  only  participate  vocally, — 

Hailed  him  from  out  their  youthful  lore, 

With  scraps  of  a  slangy  repertoire  : 
"  How  are  you,  White  Hat  ?  "     "  Put  her  through  !  " 
"  Your  head's  level !  "  and  "  Bully  for  you  !  " 

Called  him  "  Daddy  !  " — begged  he'd  disclose 

The  name  of  the  tailor  who  made  his  clothes, — 

and  did  all  that  boys  in  a  gallery  could  do,  to  worse 
confound  the  confusion. 

Up  in  the  third  tier,  in  a  corner  near  the  stage,  in 


MR.   AND  MRS.    FLORENCE.  121 

prominent  position,  visible  to  all,  was  one  particularly 
gallery  and  "gallus"  boy, — a  fireman,  red-shirted, 
soap-locked,  with  tilted  tile,  a  pure  specimen  of  the 
now  obsolete  b'hoy, — Mose  himself.  He  added  greatly 
to  the  excitement  of  the  scene,  by  the  loud  and  per- 
sonal interest  he  seemed  to  take  in  the  proceedings, 
and  promised,  in  a  vernacular  now  happily  almost  as 
obsolete  as  is  the  genus  itself,  to  give  the  indignant 
husband  a  sound  lamming  if  he  ventured  to  lay  a  hand 
on  that  young  'oman  ;  volunteering,  if  the  indignant 
husband  would  wait  for  him,  to  go  down  and  do  it 
then  and  there  ;  proceeding  then  and  there  to  go 
down  and  do  it  ! 

At  this  stage  of  the  proceedings,  the  dramatic  per- 
formances of  '  Green-Room  Secrets  '  were  entirely 
stopped.  The  artists  were  utterly  unable  to  proceed 
on  account  of  the  uproar  in  front.  The  ladies  were 
frightened  ;  the  gentlemen,  addressing  the  house,  and 
striving  vainly  to  restore  order,  were  quite  powerless 

to  proceed  ;  while  Mrs.  B ,  the  innocent  cause  of 

all  the  trouble,  evidently  preparing  for  flight,  was 
agitated  and  very  nervous.  All  this  time  the  irate 
husband  was  struggling  to  reach  his  wife,  and  fighting 
his  way  toward  her.  He  finally  climbed  over  the 
orchestra,  the  red-shirted  defender  of  the  young  'oman 
close  behind  him,  when  both  were  collared  by  a  police- 
man or  two,  dragged  upon  the  stage,  made  to  face  the 
house,  the  regulation  stage  semicircle  was  formed 
behind  the  footlights,  and  the  epilogue  was  spoken, — 
the  audience  beginning  to  recognize  in  the  efficient 
policemen,  the  supes  of  the  establishment ;  in  the  fire- 
laddie  of  the  soap-locks  and  tilted  tile,  Mr.  W.  J. 
Florence,  a  member  of  the  company  ;  in  the  indig- 


t22  MJi.    AND    MRS.    FLORENCE. 

nant  husband,  Mr.  Brougham  himself  ;  in  the  recov- 
ered wife,  Mrs.  Brougham  ;  and  to  realize  that  the 
'  Row  at  the  Lyceum  '  was  a  premeditated  and  mag- 
nificent "  sell." 

We  may  mention  here  in  passing,  that  this  peculiar 
part  of  the  "  rough,"  played  by  Mr,  Florence,  was  his 
first  decided  success  on  the  New  York  boards.  It 
brought  him  much  notoriety  and  applause,  and  en- 
couraged his  adoption  of  the  eccentric  comedy  and 
sensational  parts  he  has  made  \n&  forte,  and  in  which 
he  is  so  well  known  at  present.  Previous  to  this  hit, 
we  find  him  doing  a  general  utility  business,  as  second 
or  third  walking  gentleman,  chiefly  in  Brooklyn  and 
the  provinces, — playing  such  parts  as  Witherton  in '  Paul 
Pry,'  Valare  in  the  *  Secret,'  Langford  \n  '  My  Precious 
Betsey,'  Brockett  in  the  '  King  and  the  Mimic,'  Mr. 
Wickfield  in  '  David  Copperfield,'  Brandt  in  the 
*  Soldier's  Return,'  Captain  Cannon  in  the  '  Dead  Shot,' 
Frampton  in  the  '  Nabob  for  an  Hour,'  and  in  other 
parts  of  similar  kind, 

Laurence  Hutton  :  '  Plays  and  Players,'  chap.  8, 

The  Hon.  Bardwell  Slote,  acted  by  Mr.  Florence,  is 
a  personage  not  unlike,  in  his  effect,  certain  of  the 
caricatures  delineated  by  Dickens.  He  is  portly, 
grizzled,  slightly  bald,  red  nosed,  bright-eyed,  ad- 
dicted to  black  satin  waistcoats  and  big  bosom  pins, 
voluble,  shrewd,  grasping,  unprincipled,  saturated  with 
greed  and  with  an  odd  kind  of  smirking  humor,  and 
very  absurd  :  and  he  is  presented  as  a  politician,  resi- 
dent in  Washington,  and  engaged  in  trying  to  feather 
his  nest  by  taking  bribes  for  lobbying  railway  bills 
through   Congress.     This  individual,  as  he  is  person- 


MR.   AND   MRS.   FLORENCE.  123 

ated  by  Mr.  Florence,  is,  assuredly,  a  valuable  addi- 
tion to  the  comical  figures  of  the  stage.  Mr.  Florence's 
temperament  is  of  the  kind  that  tends  to  drollery,  and 
he  has  entered  with  great  vigor  and  zest  into  this  con- 
ception. The  performance  is  toned  with  burlesque, 
but  this  tone  is  necessary  in  dealing  with  a  caricature. 
Mr.  Florence  exhibits  artistic  instinct  in  making  Slote 
grotesque  and  amusing,  without  making  him  un.sym- 
pathetic  and  contemptible.  The  habit  of  indulgin;^  in 
monologues — after  the  manner  of  Unsworth,  the  negro 
minstrel,  in  those  clever  stump  speeches  which  will  be 
heard  no  more — and  the  habit  of  preluding  phrases 
by  announcing  their  initials  (as,  k.  k. — the  cruel  cuss, 
and  g.  u. — gone  up),  are  superficial  peculiarities,  occa- 
sionally laughable.  The  deeper  merit  is  identifica- 
tion of  the  actor  with  the  character,  and  the  discreet 
preservation  of  balance  betwixt  nature  and  extrava- 
gance. 

William  Winter,  in  the  New  York  Tribune,  Sept. 
22,  1875. 

Mrs.  Florence  was  formerly  popular  as  a  danseuse 
(to  which  fact  is  doubtless  owing  the  gracefulness  of 
carriage  so  admired  in  her),  and  subsequently  gained 
great  applause  by  her  impersonation  of  the  *  Yankee 
Girl.'  She  shared  the  honors  with  her  husband  in  their 
engagements,  and  her  latest  effort  combined  to  secure 
the  great  popularity  of  the  '  Mighty  Dollar.'  Mrs. 
Florence  is  indeed  inimitable  as  Mrs.  General  Gitflory. 
Her  impersonation  of  the  good-natured  widow,  with  a 
weakness  for  the  French  language,  is  replete  with 
vivacity,  while  utterly  devoid  of  coarseness.  It  is,  in 
fact,  the  work  of  a  consummate  comedienne.      ,     .     . 


124  MR.    AND    MRS.    FLORENCE. 

Her  acting  as  Emily  St.  Evremonde  in  the  '  Ticket  of 
Leave  Man '  is  as  good  in  its  way  as  is  Mrs.  Gilflory. 
In  both  cases  it  stamps  her  traits  as  unique  as  they  are 
admirable. 

T\\Q  New  York  Graphic,  Sept.  21,  1877. 

When  the  stage  made  its  next  snatch  for  another 
typical  American  it  grasped  a  full-fledged  member  of 
the  lower  house  engaged  in  feathering  his  own  nest. 
Judge  Bardwell  Slote  is  M.  C.  for  the  Cohosh  district. 
He  appears  in  a  play  called  the  *  Mighty  Dollar,'  by 
Mr.  B.  E.  Woolf.  He  is  a  good-natured,  well-mean- 
ing, half-educated  politician,  with  little  knowledge 
and  no  principles.  He  is  a  fair  specimen  of  those 
who  take  the  stump  before  election,  only  to  roll  logs 
after  it.  The  part  is  played  by  Mr.  W.  J.  Florence 
with  a  richness  of  humorous  caricature  which  almost 
redeems  the  inherent  vulgarity  of  the  character.  The 
performance  is  pitched  in  a  burlesque  key,  and  in  quiet 
burlesque  informed  with  drollery  Mr.  Florence  is  ad- 
mirable. He  acts  the  character  with  great  zest,  and 
in  marvellous  "make-up."  The  smirking,  grasping, 
greedy,  shrewd  and  yet  simple  politician  has  been 
endowed  by  the  author  of  the  play  with  certain  super- 
ficial characteristics  of  which  the  actor  makes  the  most. 

Brander  Matthews,  in  Scribners  Monthly,  July, 
1879. 

Mr.  Florence's  representation  of  the  part  is,  indeed, 
wonderfully  clever  and  amusing.  His  caricature  in  no 
respect  oversteps  the  modesty  of  nature.  It  is  a  cari- 
catyre,  and  is  intended  to  be  one,  but  it  is  not  one  of 
those  violent  and  fantastic  absurdities  with  which  we 
are  sometimes  presented  under  like  circumstances.    It 


MR.  AND    MRS    FLORENCE.  125 

is  a  careful  study,  founded  throughout  on  fact  and 
observation,  and  only  a  little  overcolored  to  suit  the 
dramatic  medium  in  which  it  is  presented.  In  any 
case  it  went  home  to  the  audience  directly — "  p.  d.  q.," 

as  Judge  Slote  himself  puts  it,  "  pretty  d quick  !  " 

A  sympathy  with  American  character,  a  delight  in 
American  eccentricities  and  forms  of  expression,  has 
been  rapidly  growing  among  the  English  public  of 
late,  and  Mr.  Florence  is  certainly  one  of  the  ablest 
exponents  of  American  human  nature  our  stage  has 
as  yet  seen. 

The  Figaro,  London,  Sept.  2,  1880. 

Mr.  Florence's  presentation  of  the  Hon.  Bardwell 
Slote  is  a  singularly  fine  piece  of  character  acting.  It 
develops  in  a  kind  of  extravagance  in  parts,  where,  for 
instance,  a  pretence  is  made  to  sing,  and  it  is  marred 
l)y  the  too  frequent  repetition  of  a  specie  of  conver- 
sational trick,  which  in  itself  is  not  unamusing,  but 
which  grows  tedious  when  too  frequently  employed. 
Making  allowance  for  these  defects,  it  is  a  very  ripe 
and  effective  piece  of  acting,  and  the  character  pre- 
sented, with  its  ineffable  self-content  and  its  cheery 
exposition  of  selfishness  it  is  too  ingenuous  to  strive 
to  hide,  is  quite  masterly.  Though  American  as  re- 
gards its  surroundings,  and  certain  manifestations,  the 
character  is  true  and  recognizable.  No  difficulty 
whatever  is  experienced  in  estimating  its  truthfulness 
or  appreciating  its  niceties.  Mr.  Florence  is  entitled 
to  the  honor  of  supplying  the  stage  with  a  creation. 

The  AthencBum,  London,  Sept.  4,  1880. 

As  for  Mrs.  General  Gilflory  as  represented  by  Mrs. 


126  MR.   AND    MRS.   FLORENCE. 

W.  J.  Florence,  she  is  simply  superb.  She  is  impayable 
or  ongpayable  as  she  herself  would  say  in  her  inimitable 
atrocious  French.  .  .  .  Mrs.  General  Gilflory  is  not  an 
original  character.  She  is  a  combination  of  Mrs. 
Ramsbottom,  Mrs.  Malaprop  and  the  Begum  in  *  Pen- 
dennis  '  ;  but  her  wit,  her  humor,  her  good  nature  and 
her  wonderful  French  are  all  Mrs.  Florence's  own. 
1  have  seldom  seen  a  part  so  naturally  and  so  un- 
affectedly acted  ;  and,  looking  at  the  doubly  farci- 
cal elements  in  the  character,  it  is  surprising  to  mark 
how  very  rarely  the  fun  of  Mrs.  General  Gilflory  is 
strained  to  caricature. 

George  Augustus  Sala,  in  the  Illustrated  Lon- 
don News,  Sept.  4,  i88o. 

The  American  actor  showed  that  he  was  thoroughly 
skilful,  and  had  a  strong  sense  of  humor,  by  his  per- 
formance of  Bardwell  Slote  in  a  bad  play,  and  per- 
haps shows  it  still  more  by  his  performance  of  Captain 
Cuttle  in  an  even  worse  play.  His  rendering  of  pathos 
misses  the  true  ring,  but  avoids  condemnation.  In 
the  general  interpretation  of  the  character  he  has  to 
meet  the  same  kind  of  diflficulties  which  beset  the 
illustrator  of  a  familiar  book,  and  he  gets  over  these 
difficulties,  as  well  as  those  which  arise  from  his  being 
an  American,  with  much  success.  Both  in  Bardwell 
Slote  and  in  Captain  Cuttle  Mr.  Florence  has  displayed, 
besides  the  merits  which  belong  to  a  clever  and 
thoroughly  practised  actor,  that  indefinable  quality  by 
which  a  player  is  enabled  to  create  at  once  a  sympa- 
thetic feeling  between  himself  and  his  audience. 

Walter  Herries  Pollock,  in  the  Saturday  Re- 
view, Nov.  27,  1880. 


MR.    AND    MRS.    FLORENCE.  127 

Although  new  to  a  metropolitan  audience  Mr. 
Florence's  Captain  Cuttle  has  been  seen  in  this  country 
before.  In  1862  I  believe  he  played  the  part  in  Man- 
chester, on  which  occasion  the  cast  included  Mr. 
Henry  Irving  as  Dombey,  while  Mr.  Florence's  imper- 
sonation of  the  old  captain  won  warm  recognition 
from  Mr.  Dickens  himself,  who  declared  that  it 
thoroughly  realized  his  conception  of  the  character. 
And  it  is  easy  to  understand  that  such  was  the  case,  for 
a  more  thoroughly  breezy,  natural  and  lifelike  presenta- 
tion of  the  old  man  than  Mr.  Florence's,  it  would  be 
difficult  to  conceive.  .  .  .  Mr.  Florence's  acting  is  as 
good  as  his  inimitable  make-up,  and  the  personation 
is  a  most  finished  one.  He  is  irresistibly  humorous 
and  delightfully  in  earnest  when  he  wants  to  present 
\i\s\.zzs>^oox\%\.Q  Mr.Dombey ;  and  the  way  in  which 
he  tacks  to  the  door  with  Florence  Dombey  in  his 
arms,  as  if  under  a  heavy  press  of  sail,  was  a  capital 
piece  of  "  business."  There  was  pathos  too  in  the  old 
man's  sorrow  for  Walter's  supposed  death,  and  his 
glee  at  the  good  news  was  very  amusing  to  witness. 

H.  Savile  Clarke,  in  the  Examiner,  London,  Dec. 
4,  1880. 

Mr.  Florence  acted  last  night  with  extraordinary 
spirit  and  deep  feeling.  His  identification  with  Bob 
Brierly  is  complete  in  every  point,  and  is  consistently 
sustained  from  beginning  to  end.  The  education  of 
the  old  school  actor  was  seen  again  with  delight  in 
the  honest,  unaffected  and  only  artistically  curbed 
emotion  that  the  actor  allowed  to  suffuse  his  work. 
Mr.  Florence  is  one  of  the  actors  who  have  not 
caught  the  fever  of  modern  cynicism,  and  are  not 


128  MR.    AND    MRS.    FLORENCE. 

ashamed  to  be  in  earnest.  His  treatment  of  the  love 
scene  was  full  of  tenderness  and  a  certain  rough 
grace  that  easily  won  the  hearts  of  his  hearers.  The 
spirit  of  the  impersonation  is  uncommonly  sweet  and 
gentle,  and  its  artistic,  treatment  has  the  ease  of 
second  nature. 

William  Winter,  in  the  Neto  York  Tribune,  Oct. 
24,  1882. 

Mr.  Florence  is  a  genuine  actor,  and  in  his  way  a 
most  finished  artist.  He  has  the  gift  of  impersonation 
— a  quality  scarcely  looked  for  upon  the  modern  stage 
— to  a  most  remarkable  degree,  being  perhaps  without 
a  rival  in  the  art  of  self-effacement.  There  is  certainly 
no  other  actor  of  prominence  in  this  country  capable 
of  presenting  three  characters  so  completely  distinct 
as  those  of  Obenreizer,  Bardwell  Slote,  and  Captain 
Cuttle,  not  to  speak  of  other  personages  in  his  theatri- 
cal repertory.  These  impersonations  are  noteworthy 
not  only  for  the  extraordinary  versatility  indicated  by 
them,  but  for  the  perfection  of  their  artistic  finish. 
Nobody  could  reasonably  wish  for  portraits  more 
vivid,  lifelike,  or  consistent  in  detail.'  And  this  effect 
is  wrought  by  sheer  power  of  simulation,  as  there  is 
scarcely  anywhere  a  trace  of  the  individual  personality 
of  the  actor  himself.  Such  a  performance  has  real 
artistic  value,  and  is  of  so  rare  a  kind  nowadays  that 
it  ought  not  to  be  neglected. 

J.  Ranken  Towse,  in  the  Evening  Post,  New  York, 
September  22,  1885. 

A  comedian  of  the  most  genial,  mirthful,  kindly 
nature,  he  has  powers  to  depict  the  most  pronounced 


MR.    AND    MRS.   FLORENCE.  1 29 

types  of  melodramatic  character  with  a  vital  force,  an 
intense  energy,  that  would  seem  incredible  to  one 
who  had  seen  his  Captain  Cuttle  and  had  never  seen 
his  Jules  Obenreizer.  To  sum  him  up  in  a  word,  Mr. 
Florence  is  an  actor — and  how  few  actors  we  have 
to-day  !  We  have  come  to  be  content  with  merely 
special  players.  We  mean  those  actors  who  play  one 
part  well,  but  can  never  submerge  that  character  or 
their  own  individuality  in  any  other  part.  One  might 
number  on  his  fingers  all  the  players  now  before  the 
public  who  might  do  well  any  line  of  character  for 
which  they  could  be  cast.  They  are  mostly  veterans, 
men  who  have  come  up  the  disciplinary  way  of  varied 
experience  and  much  study.  The  younger  actors 
have  neither  the  opportunity  nor  the  incentive  of  their 
predecessors.  They  mount  quickly  to  their  little 
prominence,  reign  their  brief  day,  and  are  shoved 
aside  to  make  way  for  other  ephemerals.  But  the 
actors  of  the  school  from  which  Mr.  Florence  came 
leave  their  impress  on  their  times  so  firmly  that  other 
generations  come  to  know  of  them  and  something 
like  real  fame  attends  their  names.  Mr.  Florence  will 
be  a  memory  long  after  he  has  ceased  to  play  at 
making  character  on  the  stage.  This  capital  actor  is 
no  less  entertaining  in  private  life  than  on  the  stage. 
He  is  a  remarkably  well-informed  man.  A  great 
observer,  he  has  gathered  from  all  lands  some  curious 
knowledge,  knows  something  of  all  peoples,  and  per- 
haps has  as  extensive  acquaintance  as  any  man  liv- 
ing with  notable  persons  throughout  the  world.  His 
memory  for  scenes,  incidents,  and  facts  located  at  any 
period  within  the  past  thirty  years  is  extraordinary. 
In  conversation  with  him  one  can  hardly  mention  the 


I30  MR.   AND    AIRS.    FLORENCE. 

name  of  place  or  person  that  does  not  recall  to  Mr. 
Florence  some  interesting  fact  or  circumstances  re- 
lated thereto,  which  he  proceeds  to  narrate  delight- 
fully. And  as  a  raconteur  he  has  few  superiors,  his 
stories  usually  being  of  a  kind  to  illustrate  point- 
edly some  part  of  the  general  conversation,  which  he 
manages  shall  flow  on  again  without  that  dead  calm 
which  so  commonly  falls  after  a  clever  story.  It  is  a 
profit  to  pass  an  hour  or  two  in  his  company  whenever 
there  is  opportunity,  as  it  is  a  delight  to  witness  his 
artistic  work  in  an  evening. 

The  Chicago  Inter-Ocean,  March  14,  1886, 


MR.  HENRY  IRVING. 


131 


His  life  has  made  this  iron  age 

More  grand  and  fair  in  story  ; 
Illumed  our  Shakspere's  sacred  page 

With  new  and  deathless  glory  ; 
Refreshed  the  love  of  noble  fame 

In  hearts  all  sadly  faring, 
And  lit  anew  the  dying  flame 

Of  genius  and  of  daring. 

William  Winter. 


i3« 


MR.  HENRY  IRVING. 


John  Henry  Brodribb,  or,  as  he  is  now  known, 
Henry  Irving,  the  most  accomplished  theatrical  mana- 
ger and  one  of  the  most  interesting  and  intellectual 
actors  of  the  day,  was  born  in  England,  at  Keinton, 
near  Glastonbury,  Feb.  6,  1838.  His  father  and 
mother  were  both  descended  from  old  Cornish  fami- 
lies, held  in  high  repute  in  the  neighborhood  of  St. 
Ives,  and  it  was  in  Cornwall  that  he  passed  the  days  of 
his  early  boyhood.  At  the  age  of  eleven  years  he 
was  put  to  school  in  George  Yard,  Lombard  Street, 
London,  under  the  tuition  of  Dr.  Pinches,  and  tradi- 
tion says  that  he  soon  won  the  admiration  of  his 
school-fellows  by  his  skill  in  recitation.  However  this 
may  be,  it  is  certain  that  he  was  stricken  early  with 
the  stage  fever  ;  for  although  upon  leaving  school  he 
was  placed  in  a  merchant's  office,  he  devoted  all  his 
spare  time  to  the  study  of  theatrical  literature,  saving 
his  scanty  pocket  money  to  buy  the  needful  books,  and 
to  pay  for  lessons  in  elocution  from  an  actor  in  the 
company  of  Sadler's  Wells  Theatre.  This  led  to  his 
introduction  to  Samuel  Phelps,  the  illustrious  mana- 
ger of  that  famous  little  house,  who  must  have  dis- 
cerned evident  signs  of  talent  in  the  youth,  inasmuch 
as  he  offered  him  a  small  engagement.  This  must 
have  been  a  tempting  offer  to  young  Irving,  but  he 
had  the  good  sense  to  decline  it,  rightly  judging  that 

133 


134  MR.  HENRY  IRVING. 

preliminary  practice  in  the  provinces  was  the  surest 
road  to  future  metropolitan  success.  Thus  it  hap- 
pened that  he  made  his  first  public  appearance  as  the 
Duke  of  Orleans  in  *  Richelieu/  in  Sunderland,  in  the 
North  of  England,  in  September,  1856.  In  the  fol- 
lowing year  he  was  engaged  at  the  Theatre  Royal, 
Edinburgh,  where  he  remained  for  two  years  and  a 
half,  acting  in  company  with  Charlotte  Cushman, 
Helen  Faucit,  Charles  James  Mathews,  Benjamin 
Webster,  Frederick  Robson  and  other  players  whose 
names  are  high  on  the  roll  of  dramatic  fame.  During 
this  period  he  appeared  in  more  than  three  hundred 
parts,  of  every  imaginable  variety,  and  doubtless  laid 
the  foundation  of  that  complete  mastery  of  stage  arti- 
fice which  in  later  days  proved  of  such  inestimable 
value  to  him.  Through  the  influence  of  the  well- 
known  comedian  John  L.  Toole,  with  whom  he  has 
ever  since  maintained  a  close,  almost  romantic  friend- 
ship, he  procured  a  three  years'  engagement  at  the 
Princess's  Theatre,  in  London,  and  fame  and  fortune 
seemed  almost  within  his  grasp.  But  disappointment 
awaited  him.  He  was  awarded  an  insignificant  part 
in  an  adaptation  of  Feuillet's  '  Romance  of  a  Poor 
Young  Man,'  and  cancelling  his  agreement,  retired 
once  again  to  the  provinces.  He  went  first  to  Glas- 
gow, but  soon  removed  to  Manchester,  where  he  acted 
for  nearly  five  years,  at  the  end  of  which  time  he  had 
acquired  sufficient  confidence  in  his  powers  to  essay 
Hamlet.  In  the  following  year,  1866,  he  was  engaged 
by  Dion  Boucicault,  and  played  Rawdon  Scudamore  in 
that  prolific  writer's  '  Hunted  Down,'  acquitting  him- 
self so  well  that  he  was  selected  to  play  leading 
characters  in  the  St,  James's  Theatre,  London. 


MR.  HENRY  IRVIMG.  I3S 

It  was  in  October,  1866,  that  the  actor  made  his 
second  venture  on  the  London  boards,  enacting  Dori- 
court  in  the  '  Belle's  Stratagem,'  a  performance  which 
met  with  commendation.  From  this  he  reverted  to 
Rawdon  Scudamore,  and  for  some  time  was  closely 
associated  with  various  types  of  stage  villains,  ranging 
from  Joseph  Surface  to  Robert  Macaire  and  even  Bill 
Sikes.  His  professional  labors,  however,  were  by  no 
means  confined  to  this  class  of  characters,  for  he 
appeared  successfully  as  Fetruchio,  Charles  Marlow^ 
Harry  Dornton,  De  Neuville  (in  '  Plot  and  Passion  '), 
and,  especially,  as  Dr.  Chevenix  in  '  Uncle  Dick's 
Darling.'  He  made  a  hit  as  Jeremy  Diddler,  and  was 
recognized  generally  as  an  eccentric  comedian  of 
great  versatility,  keen  perception  and  finished  skill. 
It  was  as  Digby  Grant,  however,  in  Albery's  *  Two 
Roses,'  produced  in  the  London  Vaudeville  Theatre 
in  1870,  that  he  made  his  first  great  hit,  and  estab- 
lished his  position  as  one  of  the  leading  actors  of  the 
day.  The  forcefulness,  truth  and  cynical  humor  of 
this  performance  were  extraordinary,  and  the  actor  and 
the  play  became  the  talk  of  the  town.  After  a  long 
and  triumphant  season  he  was  tendered  a  benefit  per- 
formance, and  then  for  the  first  time  recited  the 
'  Dream  of  Eugene  Aram,'  startling  everybody  by  the 
vividness  and  power  of  his  interpretation,  and  the 
boldness  and  novelty  of  the  methods  employed. 
Immediately  after  this  triumph  he  went  to  the  Lyceum 
Theatre,  then  under  the  direction  of  Mr.  Bateman, 
and  it  was  there  in  November,  187 1,  that  he  made  his 
appearance  as  Mathias,  in  the  '  Bells,'  achieving  a 
success  which  placed  him  in  the  very  front  rank  of 
his  profession.     Critical  opinion  differed  greatly  as  to 


136  MR.    HEXRY  IRVING. 

the  artistic  merit  of  the  assumption,  but  there  was 
never  any  room  for  doubt  toucliing  its  thriUing  effect 
upon  the  audiences  which  filled  the  theatre  for  months. 
The  extraordinary  subtlety  and  minute  perfection  of 
detail  with  which  he  portrayed  the  growing  horrors  of 
a  guilty  conscience  racked  by  ever-increasing  appre- 
hension of  detection  and  punishment,  culminating  in 
the  delirium  of  the  dream  scene,  and  ending  in  a  sim- 
ulated death  of  most  ghastly  realism,  more  than 
atoned  for  the  mannerisms  of  speech  and  gesture, 
which  had  always  been  peculiar  to  the  actor,  but 
which  had  never  seemed  so  prominent  and  aggressive. 
But  Mr.  Irving  had  more  surprises  in  store.  In  1872 
the  play  of  '  Charles  I.'  was  produced,  and  in  this 
again  Mr.  Irving  scored  a  triumph,  not  so  great  as 
the  first,  perhaps,  but  no  less  remarkable  in  view  of 
the  versatility  displayed.  Whereas  in  the  part  of 
Mathias  he  had  wrought  the  profoundest  impression 
by  his  portrayal  of  the  frenzies  of  despairing  guilt,  he 
now  compelled  admiration  by  the  dignity  and  mourn- 
ful tenderness  with  which  he  played  the  luckless  ^/«^. 
The  old  faults  were  manifest,  but  in  a  less  painful 
degree,  and  the  artistic  repose  and  pathos  of  the 
impersonation  awakened  profound  admiration.  In 
April,  1873,  Mr.  Irving  added  Eugene  Aratn  to  his 
theatrical  portrait  gallery,  and  again  the  actor  was 
successful,  but  his  success  in  this  was  less  astonishing, 
as  the  character,  although  widely  different  from  that 
of  Mathias,  was  manifestly  easily  within  the  resources 
of  the  actor  who  had  created  the  latter  part. 

In  1873,  Mr.  Irving  made  the  bold  experiment  of 
playing  Richelieu,  and  the  storm  of  criticism  raged 
once  more.      That  the  performance  was  exceedingly 


MR.   HENRY  IRVING.  137 

clever,  elaborated  with  rare  skill  and  keen  intellectual 
insight,  was  generally  conceded,  but  the  lack  of  true 
emotional  power  in  the  most  trying  scenes  was  clearly 
shown,  especially  when  the  inevitable  comparison  was 
made  with  the  performances  of  men  like  Macready 
and  Phelps.  The  play  ran  for  more  than  one  hun- 
dred nights,  but  the  representation  cannot  be  classed 
among  Mr.  Irving's  triumphs.  The  next  Lyceum 
play  was  '  Philip,'  and  then  in  the  autumn  of  1874  Mr. 
Irving  took  the  boldest  step  of  his  career  and  played 
Hamlet.  By  this  time  the  critics  had  resolved  them- 
selves into  two  bodies.  To  the  one  party  everything 
done  by  Mr.  Irving  was  the  work  of  supreme  genius — 
to  the  other  his  claims  to  eminence  in  tragedy  seemed 
preposterous.  A  furious  battle  was  waged  in  the 
public  prints  over  his  Dane,  and  the  bitterness  of  the 
disputants,  as  in  the  case  of  Fechter,  only  tended  to 
increase  public  interest  in  the  performance.  The 
popular  success  was  never  in  doubt.  From  the  first 
the  theatre  was  crowded,  and  the  piece  ran  for  two 
hundred  nights,  a  statement  which  proves  conclusively 
the  fascination  which  the  performance  had  for  the 
ordinary  theatre-goer,  while  the  novelty  and  ingenuity 
of  it  had  potent  charms  for  the  more  critical  observers. 
There  is  not  room  within  the  limits  of  the  present 
article  for  anything  like  a  minute  or  critical  analysis 
of  the  interpretation.  The  most  obvious  defects  in  it 
we  are  due  to  the  absence  of  real  tragic  power  and  con- 
firmed vices  of  elocution.  In  the  great  scenes  of  the 
play — in  the  meeting  with  the  Ghosts  in  the  closet 
scene  with  the  Queen,  in  the  challenge  to  Laertes,  and 
in  the  death  scene — there  was  not  a  gleam  of  tragic 
fire  ;  and  it  is  scarcely  too  much  to  say  that  the  tragic 


138  MR.   HENRY  IRVING. 

side  of  Hamlefs  character  received  no  representation 
at  all.  The  action  was  spirited,  picturesque,  dramatic, 
and  incessant,  and  would  have  been  most  eloquent 
and  impressive  to  an  audience  of  the  deaf  and  dumb ; 
but  in  the  delivery  of  the  lines  there  was  no  thrill  of 
passionate  emotion.  In  other  words,  the  actor  was 
incapable  of  executing  the  design  which  his  intellect 
had  elaborated.  In  the  quieter  conversational  pas- 
sages of  the  play  he  was  entirely  successful.  Here 
his  fertility  in  all  expedients  of  gesture  and  expression 
stood  him  in  good  stead.  His  scenes  with  Horatio 
and  Marcellus,  with  Rosencrantz  and  Guildenstern,  with 
Polonius,  and  with  the  Players,  were  almost  wholly 
admirable,  and  were  acted  with  a  naturalness  and 
simplicity  which  made  his  extravagances  at  other  times 
all  the  more  noticeable.  His  treatment  of  the  scene 
with  the  Grave-diggers  was  perfect,  the  spirit  being 
one  of  gentle  and  philosophic  melancholy,  lightened 
by  a  tinge  of  amusement.  The  impression  gained 
from  the  impersonation  as  a  whole  was  one  of 
elaborate  study,  rather  than  subtlety.  Most  careful 
thought  had  been  expended,  evidently,  upon  the  pos- 
sible significance  of  lines  and  words,  and  upon  the 
invention  of  illustrative  business.  Many  examples 
might  be  quoted  to  show  the  extraordinary  care  which 
the  English  actor  bestowed  upon  what  less  con- 
scientious men  would  call  insignificant  details.  Even 
so  hackneyed  a  play  as  *  Hamlet '  under  his  manage- 
ment was  transformed  into  something  like  a  novelt}-.* 

In  *  Macbeth,'  which  was  Mr.  Irving's  next  venture 
in  Shaksperean  tragedy,  he  was  even  less  successful, 

*  Parts  of  this  article  were  published  in  the  Century  Magazine 
of  March,   1884.— J.  R.  T 


MR.   HENRY  IRVING.  139 

for  his  interpretation  of  that  character  was  opposed  tc 
nearly  all  those  conceptions  made  familiar  to  the 
English  public  by  generations  of  eminent  tragedians. 
The  criticisms  upon  this  performance  however  did 
not  prevent  him  from  playing  Othello  in  1876,  but  his 
failure  in  this  tremendous  part  was  emphatic,  and  he 
abandoned  Shaksperean  tragedy  for  a  while  to  act 
in  Tennyson's  '  Queen  Mary,'  in  which  he  found 
Philip  II.  a  part  much  more  congenial  to  his  style  and 
temperament  than  that  of  the  Moor.  In  1877  he  once 
more  turned  his  attention  to  Shakspere,  producing 
*  Richard  III.,'  and  playing  the  true  version,  not 
Gibber's.  His  Gloster  was  remarkable  for  finesse  and 
intellectual  force.  The  subtle  deviltry  of  it,  and  a 
certain  princeliness  which  was  never  wanting,  were 
admirable,  and  elicited  much  critical  praise,  but  once 
again  the  actor  proved  wanting  when  he  came  to  deal 
with  the  tragic  episodes  at  the  end  of  the  play.  His 
next  production  was  that  of  the  '  Lyons  Mail,'  in  which 
he  enacted  the  dual  characters  of  Lesurques  and 
Dubosc  with  striking  effect,  and  then  he  revived 
Delavigne's  play  of  *  Louis  XL,'  in  which  he  achieved 
one  of  the  most  notable  and  thorough  artistic  triumphs 
of  his  remarkable  career.  A  more  brilliant  example 
of  elaborate  and  harmonious  mechanism  had  rarely  if 
ever  been  witnessed  upon  the  stage.  The  personal 
appearance  of  the  actor  as  the  decrepic  old  monarch 
was  a  triumph  of  the  dresser's  art  as  well  as  of  artistic 
imagination.  The  deathly  pallor  of  the  face,  with  its 
sinister  lines  ;  the  savage  mouth,  with  its  one  or  two 
wolfish  fangs  ;  the  hollow  cheeks,  surmounted  by  the 
gleaming  eyes,  whose  natural  size  and  brilliancy  had 
been  increased  by  every  known  trick  of  shading  ;  the 


14©  MR.   HENRY  IRVING. 

fragile  body  on  the  bent  and  trembling  legs — presented 
a  picture  of  horrible  fascination.  It  was  as  if  a  corpse, 
already  touched  by  the  corruption  of  the  tomb,  had 
been  for  one  brief  hour  galvanized  into  life.  The 
conception  was  exaggerated  to  the  verge  of  grotesque- 
ness,  but  the  thrilling  effect  of  it  was  indisputable  ; 
and,  after  all,  a  little  exaggeration  in  the  depiction  of 
a  character  bearing  few  traces  of  ordinary  humanity  is 
not  a  grievous  fault.  Mr.  Irving's  sense  of  the  pic- 
turesque is  very  keen,  and  it  was  plain  that  he  intended 
this  impersonation  for  the  eye  and  the  fancy  more 
than  for  the  judgment.  If  tested  by  the  rules  of  prob- 
ability or  consistency,  it  would  have  been  found 
radically  false  and  incoherent.  Innocence  herself  could 
never  have  been  cozened  by  so  palpable  a  hypocrite  as 
this,  and  it  is  preposterous  to  suppose  that  so  groveling 
a  coward  could  by  any  chance  have  become  a  ruler  of 
men.  In  the  veritable  Louis  there  were,  in  spite  of 
his  hideous  vices  and  despicable  weaknesses,  certain 
elements  of  greatness  which  in  this  portrayal  are  never 
even  dimly  suggested.  The  actor  simply  out-Heroded 
Herod  by  bringing  into  the  strongest  relief  the  theat- 
rical side  of  the  character  so  vividly  sketched  by  Sir 
Walter  Scott.  The  cleverness  of  the  whole  perform- 
ance was  extraordinary,  and  the  effect  of  it  was  all 
the  greater,  because  the  very  exaggeration  of  the  out- 
lines in  the  picture  drawn  concealed  effectually  the 
mannerisms  which  marred  all  the  rest  of  Mr.  Irving's 
impersonations.  It  was  difficult,  however,  for  the 
most  ardent  admirer  of  the  actor  to  mention  a  point 
where  absolute  greatness  was  displayed.  There  was 
no  opportunity,  of  course,  for  pathos,  and  there  was 
assuredly  no  manifestation  of  passion.     The  exhibi- 


MR.    HENRY  IRVING.  141 

tion  of  craven  fear,  in  the  interview  with  Nemours, 
was  perhaps  the  nearest  approach  to  it,  but  there  was 
no  effect  in  this  which  could  not  be  wrought  by 
theatrical  device.  The  great  merits  of  the  perform- 
ance lay  in  the  wonderful  manner  in  which  the  fanci- 
ful and  grotesque  ideal  was  sustained,  and  the  skill 
with  which  the  weaknesses  of  the  actor  were  con- 
verted into  excellences.  There  was  not  an  instant 
which  did  not  afford  its  evidence  of  deliberate  calcu- 
lation and  assiduous  rehearsal,  and  there  were  little 
bits  of  masterful  treatment  here  and  there  which 
lived  long  in  the  memory.  Among  them  may  be 
noted  the  picture  of  the  king  warming  his  wizened 
and  wicked  old  carcass  by  the  fire  in  his  bed-chamber, 
mumbling  excuses  to  his  leaden  saints  for  the  one 
little  sin  more  which  he  hoped  to  commit  on  the 
morrow  ;  the  scene  with  the  peasants,  with  its  ghastly 
suggestions,  and  the  final  death  episode,  the  horrify- 
ing effect  of  which  was  due  not  only  to  the  rare  skill 
of  the  acting,  but  to  the  startling  contrast  between 
the  wasted,  bloodless  body  and  the  splendor,  in 
texture  and  color,  of  its  habiliments.  The  portraiture 
throughout  was  a  marvel  of  detail,  most  cunningly 
devised  and  most  beautifully  executed.  It  failed 
only,  as  the  preceding  impersonations  had  failed,  at 
the  crises  where  the  glow  of  true  passion  was  essen- 
tial to  vitality. 

This  season  closed  with  *  Vanderdecken,'  a  mere 
reference  to  which  must  now  suffice,  and  then  Mr. 
Irving  made  another  step  upward  and  became  the 
sole  manager  of  the  theatre  of  which  he  had  so  long 
been  the  chief  attraction.  He  opened  with  '  Hamlet,' 
on  Dec.  30,  1878,  and  from  that  day  until  the  present 


142  MR.   HENRY  IRVING. 

time  he  has  enjoyed  the  fullest  measure  of  fame  and 
prosperity.  Whatever  may  be  the  final  estimate  of 
him  as  an  actor,  his  reputation  as  the  most  learned 
and  enlightened  manager  of  modern  times  is  assured. 
Not  even  Charles  Kean  ever  excelled  him  in  the 
conscientious  care  and  magnificent  liberality  of  his 
theatrical  representations,  and  under  his  direction  the 
Lyceum  Theatre  has  become  a  veritable  school  of 
dramatic  art.  The  splendor  of  the  scenery  of  his 
'  Hamlet,'  and  the  general  excellence  of  his  support- 
ing company,  evoked  the  warmest  critical  approval, 
and  from  the  standard  which  he  then  set  he  has  never 
once  departed.  After  '  Hamlet '  came  a  number  of 
revivals,  all  splendidly  mounted  with  the  closest  atten- 
tion to  accuracy  and  artistic  effect,  and  then  in  1879 
he  produced  the  *  Merchant  of  Venice,'  in  which 
occurred  a  series  of  the  most  lovely  pictures  ever 
seen  upon  the  mimic  stage.  His  SJiylock  was  the 
target,  as  usual,  for  a  vast  amount  of  criticism, 
chiefly  on  account  of  its  many  contradictions  ;  but 
his  management  of  the  trial  scene  was  extremely  fine, 
the  Jew  becoming  invested  with  a  forlorn  dignity 
which  was  infinitely  pathetic,  while  the  living  group 
of  which  he  was  the  central  figure  formed  one  of  the 
most  brilliant  and  truthful  tableaux  ever  seen  upon 
any  stage.  This  play  was  repeated  for  two  hundred 
and  fifty  nights. 

In  1880  Mr.  Irving  appeared  with  moderate  success 
in  the  '  Corsican  Brothers,'  and  in  Tennyson's  '  Cup.' 
The  season  of  1881  was  particularly  memorable,  for 
then  Mr.  Irving,  with  fine  artistic  instinct  and  the 
most  generous  appreciation  of  a  great  rival,  invited 
Mr.  Edwin  Booth  to  his  stage  and  acted  with  him  in 


MR.    HENRY  IRVING.  143 

'  Othello,'  alternating  the  characters  of  lago  and  the 
Moor  with  the  distinguished  American  tragedian.  It 
is  not  necessary  here  to  contrast  the  styles  or  com- 
pare the  merits  of  these  famous  artists.  Mr.  Irving's 
Othello  was  never  accounted,  even  by  his  most  devoted 
admirers,  among  his  best  parts,  but  as  lago  he  was 
able  to  stand  the  test  of  comparison  with  the  famous 
impersonation  of  the  American  actor.  His  delivery 
of  the  soliloquies  was  praised  greatly,  and  the  whole 
impersonation  was  remarkable  for  subtlety  and  consis- 
tency. In  1882  he  produced  *  Romeo  and  Juliet,' 
with  a  most  wonderful  completeness  and  richness  of 
stage  adornment  and  a  cast  of  most  uncommon  excel- 
lence. Mr.  Irving  could  scarcely  hope  to  make  a 
profound  impression  as  the  young  Montague  ;  but 
the  general  effect  of  a  representation  in  which  Mr. 
Terris,  Mr.  Howe,  Mr.  Tyars,  Miss  Ellen  Terry  and 
Mrs.  Stirling  bore  prominent  parts  may  be  imagined. 
The  masterpiece  had  never  been  interpreted  with 
greater  splendor  or  more  artistic  devotion,  and  the 
fame  of  the  Lyceum  and  its  manager  waxed  brighter 
than  ever. 

In  1882  Mr.  Irvmg  scored  another  triumph  in  his 
production  of  '  Much  Ado  About  Nothing,'  which 
was  put  upon  the  stage  with  a  perfection  of  scenery 
and  a  delicacy  of  interpretation  never  witnessed  by 
the  present  generation.  The  Benedick  of  Mr.  Irving, 
if  somewhat  sombre,  sparkled  with  incisive  humor  and 
was  full  of  soldierly  gallantry.  The  Beatrice  of  Ellen 
Terry  was  delicious,  and  the  subordinate  characters 
were  distributed  with  such  nicety  of  judgment  that 
the  illusion  was  as  nearly  perfect  as  possible.  No 
more  loving,  poetic  or  truthful  enactment  of  a  Shak- 


144  MR.    HENRY  IRVING. 

sperean  comedy  could  be  desired,  and  nothing  can  be 
compared  with  it  except  the  performance  of  '  Twelfth 
Night,'  which  was  one  of  the  great  features  of  Mr. 
Irving's  American  tour,  which  was  now  close  at  hand. 
It  is  not  within  the  province  of  this  article  to  expa- 
tiate upon  the  social  honors  which  were  showered 
upon  Mr.  Irving  before  his  departure  from  England 
to  visit  the  new  world.  They  were  plentiful  enough 
and  rare  enough  to  satiate  the  ambition  of  any  man. 
Even  the  great  universities  offered  him  laurels.  He 
was  the  chief  guest  at  dinners  tendered  by  the  most 
eminent  of  his  countrymen  in  social  rank,  in  art,  and  in 
literature  ;  he  enjoyed  a  triumphant  progress  through 
the  provinces  ;  he  was  made  the  especial  object  of 
even  royal  recognition.  These  facts  are  significant 
because  they  were  really  tributes  to  a  man  who  had 
established  his  right  to  them  by  dint  of  dauntless 
courage,  incessant  labor,  intellectual  power,  and  a 
profound  belief  in  the  value  of  his  art.  Had  they 
been  the  product  of  the  art  of  the  professional  adver- 
tiser^ they  would  have  received  no  word  of  notice 
here.  It  was  on  Oct.  29,  1883,  that  Mr.  Irving  with 
his  company,  made  his  first  professional  appearance  in 
the  Star  Theatre,  New  York,  in  the  character  of  Ma- 
thias.  In  the  new  world,  as  in  the  old,  his  performance 
excited  great  variance  of  critical  opinion,  but  his  in- 
tellectual supremacy,  his  splendid  management,  his 
artistic  resources,  his  versatility  and  his  originality 
met  with  instant  and  permanent  appreciation.  He 
was  recognized  instantly  as  a  man  of  the  rarest  capaci- 
ties and  the  size  of  his  audiences  was  limited  only  by 
the  area  of  the  theatres  in  which  he  played.  'I'he  '  Bells ' 
was  succeeded   by   '  Charles   I.,'   and  then  followed 


MR.    HENRY  IRVING.  145 

*  Louis  XI.,'  the  '  Merchant  of  Venice,'  the  '  Lyons 
Mail,'  the  '  Belle's  Stratagem,'  an  act  of  *  Richard  IIL,' 
'  Hamlet,' '  Much  Ado,'  and  '  Twelfth  Night,'  in  which 
he  won  another  splendid  success  as  Ma/volio,  a  charac- 
ter once  played  by  Phelps  and  Compton,  but  which  will 
be  associated  hereafter  with  the  name  of  Irving.  It 
is  scarcely  too  much  to  say  that  the  part  never  re- 
ceived adequate  interpretation  until  he  brought  his 
patience  and  keen  powers  of  insight  into  character 
to  bear  upon  it. 

This  is  a  theme  upon  which  it  would  be  pleasant  to 
dilate,  but  the  present  article  has  exceeded  already 
its  prescribed  limits.  Mr.  Irving  played  in  most  of 
the  principal  cities  of  the  United  States,  meeting 
everywhere  with  enthusiastic  welcome,  elevating  pub- 
lic taste  and  setting  a  standard  by  which  future  stage 
productions  in  that  countr)'  will  be  judged,  and 
after  a  farewell  visit  to  New  York,  ended  even 
more  brilliantly  than  his  first  began,  returned  to  Lon- 
don and  the  Lyceum.  His  latest  triumph  is  '  Fausi.' 
InMephistopheles  he  has  found  a  part  exactly  suited  to 
his  peculiar  abilities.  In  this,  he  is  easily  supreme 
both  as  actor  and  manager.  All  the  former  glories  of 
Lyceum  scenery  have  been  transcended  in  this  latest 
production,  which  has  demonstrated  the  possibility  of 
giving  tangible  form  to  the  loftiest  imaginations  of 
poetry.  In  the  mocking  fiend  he  has  hit  upon  a 
character  in  which  all  of  the  resources  of  his  art,  his 
personal  attributes,  and  his  intellectual  training  can 
find  opportunity  for  the  fullest  expression,  and  his 
performance  of  it  will  rank  with  the  best  work  which 
he  has  hitherto  done. 

In  the  final  summing  up  of  his  dramatic  powers  the 


14^  MR.  HENRY  IRVING. 

verdict  must  be  that  his  chief  excellence  lies  in  eccen- 
tric comedy  and  that  kind  of  romantic  melodrama 
which  does  not  demand  the  expression  of  passionate 
emotion.  Nature  has  opposed  an  insuperable  bar  to 
his  progress  in  this  direction.  His  frame  is  slight, 
his  voice  is  weak  in  volume  and  restricted  in  compass, 
and  his  features,  although  they  are  most  refined,  intelli- 
gent, and  mobile,  are  cast  in  too  delicate  a  mould  to  give 
full  expression  to  the  higher  passions.  Garrick  and 
Edmund  Kean  were  small  men,  to  be  sure,  but  their 
voices  were  of  great  flexibility  and  power,  and  both 
were  filled  with  the  might  of  genius.  Of  this  most 
precious  gift  Mr.  Irving  has  shown  no  trace.  His 
career  would  not  be  half  so  interesting,  instructive, 
and  honorable  as  it  is,  were  it  not  for  the  courage  and 
resolution  with  which  he  has  faced  and  overcome  all 
obstacles.  Throughout  all  the  best  years  of  early 
manhood,  he  acted  in  provincial  theatres  in  every 
variety  of  play  known  to  the  stage.  It  is  a  curious 
reflection  that,  not  very  many  years  ago,  the  present 
accepted  representative  of  Hamlet,  Lear,  and  Macbeth 
was  only  known  in  London  as  a  player  of  eccentric 
light  comedy  and  farce,  who  delighted  by  his  gro- 
tesque portrayal  of  such  characters  as  Jeremy  Diddler 
and  Alfred  Jingle.  All  through  these  humble,  labor- 
ious, and  unremunerative  days  he  was  gradually 
acquiring  that  mastery  of  stage  technique  in  which  he 
probably  has  no  superior.  There  is  nothing  unnatural 
in  the  supposition  that  he  may  have  contracted  some 
of  his  most  curious  mannerisms  in  those  old  days  when 
he  moved  his  audiences  to  uproarious  laughter  by  the 
agility  of  his  contortions  and  his  representation  of 
comic   starvation.      This   sort  of  work  could  never 


MR.    HENRY  IRVING.  147 

have  been  congenial  to  so  ambitious  and  intelligent  a 
man,  but  he  performed  it  with  all  the  earnestness  and 
care  which  he  now  expends  upon  his  masterpieces  of 
stage  production.  Almost  everything  that  he  under- 
took was  marked  by  originality  and  purpose.  His 
execution  was  always  bold,  prompt,  and  precise,  as 
if  each  mechanical  detail  had  been  carefully  arranged 
beforehand,  and  nothing  was  left  to  chance  or  the 
inspiration  of  the  moment.  This  mechanical  preci- 
sion is  one  of  the  most  noteworthy  features  of  his 
acting  now,  and  is  carried  to  such  a  pitch  of  perfec- 
tion that  it  is  almost  impossible  to  detect  any  differ- 
ence between  two  or  more  of  his  performances  of  the 
same  part.  Premeditation  of  this  kind  is  an  infallible 
safeguard  against  slovenly  performances,  but  also  tends 
to  act  as  a  clog  to  inspiration,  and  may  possibly  have 
had  a  bad  effect  in  Mr.  Irving's  own  case.  Whether  or 
not  his  persistence  in  certain  ungainly  gestures  during 
this  early  period  of  his  career,  when  he  dealt  largely 
in  burlesque  exaggeration,  is  the  cause  of  the  curious 
mannerisms  which  are  such  terrible  disfigurements 
now,  is  a  question  which  it  would  be  interesting  to 
settle.  It  is  scarcely  credible  that  any  intelligent 
actor,  especially  with  that  keen  artistic  sense  which 
Mr.  Irving  possesses,  would  ever  deliberately  adopt 
them  as  appropriate  to  every  stage  character.  Charity, 
therefore,  demands  that  his  sins,  in  the  way  of  walk 
and  gesture,  should  be  ascribed  to  unconscious  habit. 
For  his  unaccountable  system  of  elocution  some  other 
explanation  must  be  invented.  That  it  is  not  physical 
misfortune  is  happily  demonstrated  by  the  crisp  and 
simple  method  of  delivery  which  he  employs  when  he 
chooses.     Whatever  his  theory  may  be,  it   is  a   bad 


148  MR.    HENRY  IRVING. 

one.  Nothing  could  be  much  more  distressing  to  the 
ear  than  the  gasping  ejection  of  syllable  by  syllable 
in  a  dolorous  monotone,  which  he  tries  to  pass  current 
for  honest  elocution,  but  which  is  fatal  to  rhythm, 
melody,  and  often  to  sense  itself.  But,  after  all,  this 
is  only  one  of  the  contradictions  in  which  Mr.  Irving's 
work  abounds.  His  scholarly  taste  does  not  prevent 
him  from  violating  the  laws  of  proportion  ;  he  is  a 
master  of  gesture,  and  yet  descends  to  mere  contor- 
tion ;  he  is  capable  of  creating  the  finest  effects  by 
the  strength  of  artistic  repose,  and  yet  sometimes 
ruins  a  noble  scene  by  inexcusable  restlessness. 

But  it  is  ungracious  to  pursue  this  line  of  thought 
further.  It  is  more  pleasant  to  reflect  upon  the  noble 
service  which  he  has  rendered  to  the  contemporary 
stage  ;  how  he  has  elevated  his  profession  to  the  place 
which  it  ought  to  occupy  among  the  arts,  and  taught 
the  great  unthinking  public  the  wondrous  beauties  of 
masterpieces  which,  on  account  of  maltreatment,  were 
sinking  into  contempt  or  oblivion.  Henry  Irving  is 
a  benefactor  of  his  race  and  his  name  will  endure 
when  the  theatre  which  he  has  raised  to  eminence  has 
"  crumbled  to  ruins,  and  mouldered  in  dust  away." 

J.  RaNken  Towse. 


The  desperate  calm  of  mingled  passion  and  fear  in 
the  great  scene  of  '  Eugene  Aram '  ;  the  controlled 
pathos  of  the  closing  act  of  '  Charles  I. '  ;  the  sinister 
comedy  of  '  Richard  III.'  ;  Shylock's  fixed  and  unal- 
terable resolve  of  vengeance,  subtly  alternating  in  its 
expression  between  the  low  cunning  and  husbanded 
cruelty  of  a  humiliated   race,  and  the  dignity  that  is 


MR.   HENRY  IRVING.  1 49 

the  inalienable  possession  of  suffering  and  wrong  ; 
the  humor  that  plays  upon  the  surface  of  lago's 
passionless  delight  in  human  torture  ;  the  chivalrous 
sympathy  with  sorrow,  and  the  manly  tenderness  of 
heart,  that  break  through  the  cynical  armor  of 
Benedick  j  these  are,  to  my  mind,  memorable  instances 
of  an  actor's  power  over  his  art  and  over  his  audience 
that  will  outlast  the  objections,  however  justly 
grounded  in  themselves,  that  can  be  brought  against 
isolated  passages  in  each  or  all  of  the  performances  in 
which  they  are  displayed. 

J.  CoMYNS  Carr,  in  the  Fortnightly  Revieic,  Feb- 
ruary, 1883. 

Mr.  Henry  Irving's  visit  to  this  country  this  year 
and  the  last  was  not  only  profitable  to  him,  but  it  was 
very  advantageous  to  us.  Whatever  rank  may  be 
assigned  to  him  as  an  actor,  his  service  to  the  stage 
is  incontestable.  His  personal  graces  and  modesty, 
the  ent.re  freedom  of  the  gentleman  in  private  life 
from  the  "  staginess  "  which  is  commonly  associated 
with  actors  in  retirement,  his  cultivation  and  simple 
urbanity,  have  corrected  the  impression  that  an  actor 
cannot  be  a  "common  gentleman,"  but  must  be 
always  striking  an  attitude  and  rolling  out  his  "  deep- 
monthed  ohs  and  ahs."  This  is  an  excellent  service, 
because  it  places  the  actor  upon  the  same  plane  of 
self-respecting  propriety  and  courtesy  with  the  men 
of  all  other  professions. 

George  William  Curtis,  in  Harper's  Magazine, 
June,  1885. 

Irving,  no  doubt,  owes  much  of  his  success — his 


150  MR.    HENRY  IRVING. 

most  deserved  and  legitimate  success — to  his  resem- 
blance to  Macready  and  Charles  Kean.  His  "  You 
annoy  me  very  much  !  "  in  Digby  Grant,  was  Mac- 
ready  over  again  ;  and  much  of  his  "mannerism"  is 
intensely  Macreadyish.  His  "  intensity  "  (for  want  of 
a  better  word,  but  it  is  not  the  one  that  quite  ex- 
presses my  meaning)  is  essentially  Charles  Keany. 
The  combination  is  a  happy  one,  and  the  public 
benefit  therefrom. 

Henry  J.  Byron,  in  the  *  Green  Room.'  Christmas, 
1880. 

Furthermore,  there  never  was  an  actor,  that  attained 
to  eminence,  who  was  not  as  distinctly  marked  as  Mr. 
Irving  is,  with  personal  peculiarities.  Garrick  sput- 
tered. Mossop  inflated  himself  like  the  arrogant  and 
bellicose  turkey.  Edmund  Kean  croaked  like  a  raven. 
John  Philip  Kemble  had  chronic  asthma  and  spoke  in 
a  high  falsetto.  Macready  stammered  and  grunted. 
Holland  snuffled.  Burke  twisted  his  spindle  legs. 
Forrest "  chewed  the  cud,"  like  an  ox.  Charlotte  Cush- 
man  had  a  masculine  figure,  a  gaunt  face,  and  a  broken 
and  quavering  voice.  These  things  have  little  or 
nothing  to  do  with  the  essential  question.  The  art  of 
acting  is  a  complex  art,  made  up  of  many  arts.  It  is 
not  an  actor's  business  always  to  be  graceful  in  his  atti- 
tudes and  movements,  or  always  to  be  regular  and 
polished  in  his  periods  and  enunciation.  Every  artist 
has  a  way  of  his  own,  by  which  he  reaches  his  results. 
Mr.  Irving's  way  is  not  the  best  way  for  everybody, 
because  the  only  true,  right  and  conclusive  way  of  uni- 
versal human  nature  ;  but,  undoubtedly,  it  is  the  best 
way  for  him.    He  produces  marvellously  fine  effects  by 


MR.    HENRY  IRVING.  15 ^ 

it,  and  therefore  he  is  right  in  using  it.  Within  a  cer- 
tain field  and  up  to  a  certain  point,  it  is  invincible  and 
triumphant.  As  far  as  he  now  stands  disclosed  upon 
this  stage  Mr.  Irving  is  a  thorough  and  often  a  mag- 
nificent artist,  one  who  makes  even  his  defects  to  help 
him,  and  one  who  leaves  nothing  to  blind  and  whirling 
chance ;  and  if  the  light  that  shines  through  his 
work  be  not  the  light  of  genius,  by  what  name  shall  it 
be  called  ? 

William  Winter  :  '  Henry  Irving,'/.  31. 

In  proportion  as  a  character  calls  for  intellect  rather 
than  purely  histrionic  qualities  in  its  interpreter — in 
proportion  as  it  addresses  itself  to  the  intellect  rather 
than  the  sympathy  of  the  audience — in  precisely  the 
same  proportion  does  Mr.  Irving  succeed  in  it.  His 
Hamlet  is  better  than  his  Macbeth  or  Othello,  his  Shy- 
lock  than  his  Hamlet,  his  Richard  than  his  Shylock  ; 
while  his  lago,  who  speaks  direct  from  brain  to  brain, 
comes  as  near  perfection  as  anything  he  has  done.  By 
intellect  Mr.  Irving  enters  "  into  the  skin  "  of  Charles 
I.  and  Richelieu.  By  intellect  he  makes  Diibosc  a  liv- 
ing type,  Mathias  a  haunting  recollection.  By  intellect 
he  produces  the  effect  of  masterful  decision  of  pur- 
pose, which  saves  even  his  worst  parts  from  the  fatal 
reproach  of  feebleness.  By  intellect  he  makes  us  for- 
get his  negative  failings  and  forgive  his  positive  faults. 
By  intellect,  he  forces  us  to  respect  where  we  cannot 
admire  him.     By  intellect  he  dominates  the  stage. 

William  Archer  :  '  Henry  Irving,  Actor  and 
Manager,'//.  91-2. 


152  MR.    HENRY  IRVING. 

MR.    IRVING'S    MEPHISTOPHELES. 

When  the  gray  shapes  of  dread,  adoring,  fall 
Before  the  Red  One,  towering  o'er  them  all  ; 
The  one  whose  voice  and  gesture,  face  and  form, 
Proclaim  him  Prince  of  the   unhallowed  storm, 
Who  stands  unmoved  amid  the  fiery  tide 
And  rain  of  fiame  that  sweep  the  mountain  side  ; 
Then,  as  the  ribald  pageant  fades  from  view. 
We  think  the  Fiend  himself  commands  the  crew. 
But  when  the  mask  is  down,  and  when  a  smile 
Wreathes  the  dark  face,  and  flattering  words  beguile  ; 
When,  whimsical,  half  careless  of  deceiving, 
He  plays  upon  the  student's  fond  believing  ; 
When  from  beneath  the  cavalier's  disguise 
The  Snake  unveils  the  menace  of  his  eyes  ; 
When,  with  a  far-off  ring  of  his  despair, 
His  scathing  laughter  splits  the  frighted  air. 
Then,  more  than  in  the  Brocken's  maddening  revel, 
We  seem  to  see  and  hear  the  living  Devil. 

Walter  Herries  Pollock,  in  Longman  s  Magazine, 
March,  1886. 


MR.  JOSEPH  JEFFERSON. 


153 


No  need  to  chronicle  the  triumphs  won 

By  our  incomparable  Jefferson  ! 

Long  may  the  old-time  sweetness  of  his  speech 

Dwell  in  our  ears  when  he  shall  cease  to  teach  ; 

Long  will  the  memory  hold  his  witching  art, 

As  imaged  in  each  finely-ordered  part, 

Where  laughing  wit  lay  close  to  throbbing  heart 

The  strut  of  Acres  with  his  paper  frills. 

And  Rip's  deep  slumber  'mid  the  storied  hills. 

William  L.  Keese. 


'54 


MR.  JOSEPH  JEFFERSON. 


Some  fifty-four  years  ago,  a  man  got  up  to  repre- 
sent a  most  eccentric  and  agile  negro,  walked  upon 
the  stage  of  the  Washington  Theatre,  carrying  a  large 
bag.  The  contents  of  the  bag  he  emptied  upon  the 
stage,  the  contents  being  a  little  boy,  who  was  dressed 
in  exact  imitation  of  the  man.  This  man  was  tall  and 
gawky ;  but  full  of  an  odd  humor.  He  faced  the 
audience  and  sang  : 

Ladies  and  gentlemen,  I'd  have  yer  for  to  know, 
I'se  got  a  little  darkey  here,  to  jump  Jim  Crow, 

And  then  the  boy  and  the  man  danced  the  dance  and 
sang  the  song  that  are  remembered  to  this  day.  The 
boy,  however,  could  not  pronounce  the  words  aright. 
He  was  only  four  years  old. 

The  man  was  Thomas  D.  Rice,  the  original  '  Jim 
Crow.'     The  boy  was  Joseph  Jefferson. 

This  little  Jefferson  belonged  to  the  fourth  genera- 
tion of  a  family  of  actors.  His  great-grandfather  had 
gone  on  the  stage  under  Garrick's  patronage,  or  at 
least  with  his  help  and  advice.  His  grandfather,  an 
able  and  even  brilliant  actor,  arrived  in  America  in 
1795  and  made  himself  a  notable  name.  His  father 
was  a  quiet  and  unambitious  man  ;  better  thought  of 
for  his  personal  worth  than  for  his  talents.  But  all 
these  three  were  good  men,  honest,  upright,  intelligent ; 

155 


156  MR.   JOSEPH  JEFFERSON. 

and  the  fourth  of  the  direct  Une,  the  Joseph  Jefferson 
whom  we  know  to-day,  came  into  the  world  with  the 
best  of  inheritance — the  blood  of  a  good  and  worthy 
stock. 

His  performance  with  Rice  was  not  his  first  appear- 
ance on  the  stage.  He  was  born  Feb.  20,  1829,  in 
Philadelphia,  of  Joseph  Jefferson  and  Cornelia  Frances 
Jefferson.*  At  three  years  of  age  he  was  the  child  of 
Cora,  in  '  Pizarro,'  at  the  Washington  Theatre.  Here 
also  he  had  already  given  infantile  imitations  of 
Fletcher,  the  Statue  Man. 

When  he  was  eight  years  old  he  was  playing  a 
Pirate  2it  the  Franklin  Theatre,  in  New  York,  and  an 
infant  phenomenon  named  Titus  was  a  virtuous  Sailor^ 
and  nightly  overthrew  him  in  a  broad-sword  combat. 
Then  his  kindly,  luckless  father  "  took  to  the  road," 
and  the  boy  strolled,  after  the  fashion  of  the  Thespian 
vagabonds  of  Elizabeth's  day,  through  the  West  and 
the  South,  playing  in  barns  and  tavern  dining-rooms  ; 
and  even  tracking  the  army  of  the  United  States  into 
Mexico  when  the  war  broke  out. 

He  was  twenty  years  old  when  he  came  back  to 
New  York  and  played  at  Chanfrau's  National  Theatre. 
There,  also,  played  Miss  Margaret  Clements  Lockyer,  a 
bright  English  girl  of  eighteen,  who  became  Mrs. 
Joseph  Jefferson  on  May  19,  1850.  These  young 
people  acted  in  the  one  company  that  Fall,  at  the 
Olympic.  The  next  year  Jefferson  was  at  Niblo's 
Garden,  in  the  same  list  with  Lester  Wallack,  Blake, 
Mrs.  John  Drew,  and  Charles  Wheatleigh.  Then  he 

*  His  mother  was  a  Miss  Thomas,  daughter  of  a  French  refugee 
from  St.  Domingo.      She  married  Thomas  Burke,  the  comedian 
and  a  year  or  two  after  his  death  became  Mrs.  Jefferson. 


MR.   JOSEPH  JEFFERSON:  15  7 

turned  manager  and  went  through  the  South,  ending 
his  tour  with  a  stay  in  Philadelphia  and  another  stay 
in  Baltimore.  In  1856  he  went  to  Europe,  and  saw 
what  London  and  Paris  had  to  show  in  the  way  of 
acting. 

In  that  year  Miss  Laura  Keene  opened  her  theatre 
in  New  York,  and  Jefferson  was  of  the  company.  He 
played  Dr.  Fangloss  in  1857,  and  in  the  next  year  he 
and  Edward  A.  Sothern  made  two  great  hits  as 
Asa  Trenchard  diXidi  Lord  Dundreary  in  '  Our  American 
Cousin.'  Then  he  went  to  the  Winter  Garden,  under 
the  management  of  William  Stuart  and  Dion  Bouci- 
cault,  and  played  Caleb  Plummer,  and  wrote  the  ver- 
sion of  '  Oliver  Twist '  in  which  J.  W.  Wallack,  Jr. 
made  Fagin  famous. 

It  was  in  1861  that  his  wife  died,  and  he  took  to 
wandering  in  his  loneliness  ;  he  was,  moreover,  sick  of 
body. 

But  he  was  now  a  popular  actor  ;  more,  indeed,  a 
recognized  artist.  He  had  served  a  long  and  hard 
apprenticeship,  of  which  these  few  pages  can  give  but 
the  slightest  and  most  inadequate  record.  He  had 
played  a  wonderful  range  of  parts  ;  he  had  shown 
himself  a  comedian  in  the  sense  of  being  an  interpreter 
of  human  nature.  He  had  proved  that  he  possessed 
comic  force  and  pathetic  force  ;  he  had  established 
himself  among  the  skilled  and  earnest  exponents  of 
the  dramatic  art ;  he  had  won  the  favor  and  the 
respect  of  the  people,  as  an  actor,  and  as  a  man  ;  and 
his  public  life  lay  before  him,  to  be  worked  out  ac- 
cording to  his  best  ambitions. 

He  appeared  on  the  stage  of  San  Francisco,  and 
stayed  there  from  July  to  Nov.,  1861.     The  next  four 


158  MR.   JOSEPH  JEFFERSON. 

I 

years  he  spent  in  Australia.  In  Tasmania  he  played 
Bob  Brierly  before  an  audience  of  ticket-of-leave-men  ; 
and  he  pleased  them,  fortunately  for  himself — for 
they  had  not  meant  to  be  pleased. 

Mr.  Dion  Boucicault  was  in  London  in  1865,  and 
to  him  came  Mr.  Jefferson,  just  arrived  in  England, 
by  way  of  Panama,  with  an  idea.  There  was  a  story 
of  Washington  Irving's  called  '  Rip  Van  Winkle,' 
which  had  furnished  the  basis  for  half-a-dozen  or 
maybe  a  dozen  plays,  more  or  less  bad,  most  of  them. 
One  of  these  was  in  Jefferson's  possession.  He  had 
acted  in  it  years  before,  when  Charles  Burke,  William 
Chapman,  J.  H.  {Falstaff)  Hackett,  William  Isherwood 
and  others,  had  tried  their  fortunes  as  Rip,  Jeffer- 
son saw  how  the  play  could  be  written  ;  Boucicault 
saw  still  more  in  it,  and  re-wrote  the  drama.  It  was 
produced  at  the  London  Adelphi,  Sept.  4,  1865.  It 
was  a  success,  and  Mr.  Jefferson  found  his  best  part 
in  Rip,  The  judgment  of  the  English  public  was 
confirmed  in  America,  and  *  Rip  Van  Winkle  '  was 
Jefferson's  main-stay,  and  Rip  the  part  with  which 
the  people  identified  him — to  speak  literally — until 
1880,  when  he  appeared  in  Philadelphia  as  Bob  Acres 
in  his  own  revision  of  tlie  *  Rivals,'  and  scored  a  suc- 
cess that  has  divided  popular  favor  with  his  imper- 
sonation of  the  character  hinted  at  in  Irving's  story. 

Mr.  Jefferson  married  for  the  second  time  in  1867. 
The  second  Mrs.  Jefferson  was  a  Miss  Warren,  a  dis- 
tant relative.  He  has  had  nine  children — six  by  his 
first  wife,  three  by  his  second.  Two  have  been  on 
the  stage,  and  are  now  in  private  life.  One  daughter 
is  the  wife  of  Farjeon,  the  novelist.  One  boy  is  named 
after  William  Winter,  the  brilliant  dramatic  critic,  to 


MR.    JOSEPH  JEFFERSON.  159 

wtiom  the  present  writer  must  acknowledge  his  in- 
debtedness for  biographical  facts  and  figures.  Mr. 
Winter's  *  Lives  of  the  Jeffersons,'  are  models  of  con- 
scientious record,  and  tell  in  a  charming  way  the  his- 
tory of  this  famous  family. 

This  is  the  simple  story  of  a  man  who  is  an  honor  to 
the  stage,  and  who  has  done  the  stage  great  honor — 
the  fourth  of  a  line  of  good  men  and  good  actors.  There 
is,  of  course,  much  more  to  be  said  of  him.  It  seems 
unnecessary,  however,  to  tell  Americans  that  Joseph 
Jefferson's  private  life  has  been  as  admirable  as  his 
professional  career  :  that  he  is  a  charming  com- 
panion and  a  good  friend.  It  is  known  that  he  is  a 
man  of  intellect  and  accomplishments ;  a  skilful 
painter,  and  not  unused  to  literary  work. 

But  there  is  something  more  to  be  said  of  Mr. 
Jefferson's  permanent  hold  upon  popular  regard. 
The  American  populace  has  a  way  of  its  own  of  giv- 
ing affectionate  nicknames  to  those  whom  it  holds  in 
high  esteem.  It  has  re-christened  Andy  Jackson, 
Dan'l  (not  Daniel)  Webster  and  Abe  Lincoln.  It 
has  given  the  accolade  of  affectionate  familiarity  to 
Phil  Sheridan  and  Stonewall  Jackson.  In  all  this 
there  is  nothing  of  disrespect  or  discourtesy.  If 
means  simply  friendly  recognition  and  generous  adop- 
tion. And  the  people  of  this  country  long  ago  decreed 
that  Joseph  Jefferson  should  be  and  remain  Jo  Jeffer- 
son. 

This  is  mainly  because,  in  playing  Rip  Van  Winkle 
he  breathed  the  breath  of  his  own  life  into  a  char- 
acter so  human,  so  true,  so  sweet  and  lovable  in  spite 
of  all  his  weakness  that  the  people  took  him  to  their 
heart  as  we  take  a  dear,  wilful  child   into  our  arms. 


l6o  MR.   JOSEPH  JEFFERSON. 

Humanity  is  the  key-note  of  Jefferson's  conception  of 
Rip  Van  Winkle.  In  the  strange  smacking  of  the 
chops — that  hideous  chuckle  of  incipient  drunkenness 
— in  the  quavering  pathos  of  the  voice  with  which 
the  old  outcast  pleads  for  recognition  from  the 
daughter  to  whom  he  is  but  a  memory — Jefferson's  Rip 
is  intensely  and  sympathetically  human.  This  is  the 
great  thing  that  Jo  Jefferson  has  done.  He  has  put 
before  us,  living  in  the  flesh,  a  man  who  is  lovable 
even  though  he  be  a  sot,  an  idler,  a  creature  negligent 
of  every  duty  of  a  husband  and  a  father  ;  and  he  has 
not  made  us  love  any  of  these  vile  things,  but  only 
the  man  whom  we  must  love  in  spite  of  them. 
We  go  to  look  at  the  very  human  being  thus  por- 
trayed, and  we  come  away,  not  too  proud  that  we 
have  conformed  in  all  things  to  the  code  of  the  Phari- 
sees, wishing,  perhaps,  that  we  were  even  as  this 
Publican  in  the  love  and  simplicity  that  brings  the 
little  children  about  his  knees  ;  wishing,  certainly,  that 
our  superiority  were  less  of  a  reproach  to  him  and 
more  a  help  to  make  him  better. 

H.    C.    BUNNER. 

September  30,  1858. 

Mr.  Irving  came  in  town  to  remain  a  few  days.  In 
the  evening  went  to  Laura  Keene's  Theatre  to  see 
young  Jefferson  as  Goldfinch,  in  Holcroft's  comedy  of 
the  *  Road  to  Ruin.'  Thought  Jefferson,  the  father, 
one  of  the  best  actors  he  had  ever  seen  ;  and  the  son 
reminded  him,  in  look,  gesture,  size  and  make,  of  the 
father.  Had  never  seen  the  father  in  Goldfinch,  but 
was  delighted  with  the  son. 

'  Life  and  Letters  of  Washington  Irving,'  vol.  iv., 
P'  253- 


MR.    JOSEPH  JEFFERSON.  l6l 

The  opening  of  the  third  act  [of '  Rip  Van  Winkle  '] 
shows  him  at  his  awaking  with  rotten  clothes  and 
long  white  hair  and  beard—  an  exaggeration  not  re- 
quired. The  story  had  said  that  his  beard  was  gray 
and  gray  would  be,  in  the  dramatic  rendering,  most 
truly  effective.  The  drama  in  this  act  is  at  its 
poorest,  but  Mr.  Jefferson  is  at  his  best.  Retaining 
his  old  Dutch  English  with  a  somewhat  shrill  pipe 
of  age  in  its  tone,  he  quickly  makes  the  most  of  every 
opportunity  of  representing  the  old  man's  bewilder- 
ment. His  third  approach  to  an  understanding  of  the 
change  he  finds,  his  faint  touch  of  the  sound  of  old 
love  in  believing  his  wife  dead,  and  in  action  with 
humorous  sense  of  relief,  his  trembling  desire  and 
dread  of  news  about  his  daughter,  and,  in  a  later  scene 
the  pathos  of  his  appeal  to  her  for  recognition  are  all 
delicately  true. 

Henry  Morlev  :  '  Journal  of  a  London  Playgoer,' 
Sept.  23,  1886. 

From  the  moment  of  Rip's  entrance  upon  the  scene 
— for  it  is  Rip  Van  Winkle,  and  not  Mr.  Jefferson, — 
the  audience  has  assurance  that  a  worthy  descendant 
of  the  noblest  of  the  old  players  is  before  them.  He 
leans  lightly  against  a  table,  his  disengaged  hand 
holding  his  gun.  Standing  there,  he  is  in  himself  the 
incarnation  of  the  lazy,  good-natured,  dissipated,  good- 
for-nothing  Dutchman  that  Irving  drew.  Preponder- 
ance of  humor  is  expressed  in  every  feature,  yea,  in 
every  limb  and  motion  of  the  light,  supple  figure. 
The  kindly,  simple,  insouciant  face,  ruddy,  smiling, 
lighted  by  the  tender,  humorous  blue  eyes,  which  look 
down  upon  his  dress,  elaborately  copied  bit  by  bit 


1 62  MR.    JOSEPH  JEFFERSON. 

from  the  etchings  of  Darley  ;  the  lounging,  careless 
grace  of  the  figure  ;  the  low,  musical  voice,  whose 
utterances  are  "  far  above  singing  "  ;  the  sweet,  rip- 
pling laughter — all  combine  to  produce  an  effect 
which  is  rare  in  its  simplicity  and  excellence,  and 
altogether  satisfying. 

The  impersonation  is  full  of  what  are  technically 
known  as  points ;  but  the  genius  of  Mr.  Jefferson 
divests  them  of  all  "  staginess,"  and  they  are  only 
such  points  as  the  requirements  of  his  art,  its  passion, 
humor,  or  dignity,  suggests.  From  the  rising  of  the 
curtain  on  the  first  scene,  until  its  fall  on  the  last, 
nothing  is  forced,  sensational,  or  unseemly.  The 
remarkable  beauty  of  the  performance  arises  from 
nothing  so  much  as  its  entire  repose  and  equality. 

The  scene,  however,  in  which  the  real  greatness 
of  the  player  is  shown  in  his  "  so  potent  art,"  is  the 
last  scene  of  the  first  act.  It  is  marvellously  beautiful 
in  its  human  tenderness  and  dignity.  Here  the  de- 
bauched good-for-nothing,  who  has  squandered  life, 
friends,  and  fortune,  is  driven  from  his  home  with  a 
scorn  pitiless  as  the  storm-filled  night  without.  The 
scene  undoubtedly  owes  much  to  the  art  of  the  dram- 
atist, who  has  combined  the  broadest  humor  in  the 
beginning  with  the  deepest  pathos  at  the  close.  Here 
there  is  "  room  and  verge  enough  "  for  the  amplest 
display  of  the  comedian's  power.  And  the  opportuni- 
ties are  nobly  used.  His  utterance  of  the  memorable 
words,  "  Would  you  drive  me  out  like  a  dog  ?  "  is  an 
unsurpassed  expression  of  power  and  genius.  His 
sitting  with  his  face  turned  from  the  audience  during 
his  dame's  tirade,  his  stunned,  dazed  look  as  he  rises, 
his  blind  groping  from  his  chair  to  the  table,  ar^ 


MR.   JOSEPH  JEFFERSON.  163 

all   actions  conceived   in  the  very  noblest   spirit   of 
art. 

In  a  moment  the  lazy  drunkard,  stung  into  a  new 
existence  by  the  taunts  of  his  vixenish  wife,  throws  off 
the  shell  which  has  encased  his  better  self,  and  rises 
to  the  full  stature  of  his  manhood — a  man  sorely 
stricken,  but  every  inch  a  man.  All  tokens  of  de- 
bauchery are  gone  ;  vanished  all  traces  of  the  old  care- 
less indolence  and  humor.  His  tones,  vibrating  with 
the  passion  that  consumes  him,  are  clear  and  low  and 
sweet — full  of  doubt  that  he  has  heard  aright  the  words 
of  banishment — full  of  an  awful  pain  and  pity  and  dis- 
may. And  so,  with  one  parting  farewell  to  his  child, 
full  of  a  nameless  agony,  he  goes  out  into  the  storm 
and  darkness. 

The  theatre  does  not  "  rise  at  him  "  :  it  does  more 
— give  finer  appreciation  of  the  actor's  power  ;  it  is 
deadly  silent  for  minutes  after,  or  would  be,  but  for 
some  sobbing  women  there. 

After  a  scene  so  effective,  in  which  the  profoundest 
feelings  of  his  auditors  are  stirred,  the  task  of  the 
comedian  in  maintaining  the  interest  of  the  play 
becomes  exceedingly  onerous  ;  but  Mr.  Jefferson 
nowhere  fails  to  create  and  absorb  the  attention  of  his 
audience.  One  scene  is  enacted  as  well  as  another  ; 
and  that  he  not  always  creates  the  same  emotion  is 
not  his  fault,  but  that  of  the  dramatist.  The  player  is 
always  equal  to  the  requirements  of  his  art. 

The  versatility  of  Mr.  Jefferson's  powers  is  finely 
shown  in  the  scene  of  Rip's  awaking  from  his  sleep  in 
the  Catskills,  and  in  those  scenes  which  immediately 
follow.  Here  he  has  thrown  off  his  youth,  his  hair 
has  whitened,  his  voice  is  broken  to  a  childish  tremble, 


1 64  MR.   JOSEPH  JEFFERSON. 

his  very  limbs  are  shrunken,  tottering,  palsied.  This 
maundering,  almost  imbecile  old  man,  out  of  whose 
talk  come  dimly  rays  of  the  old  quaint  humor,  would 
excite  only  ridicule  and  laughter  in  the  hands  of  an 
artist  less  gifted  than  Mr.  Jefferson  ;  but  his  griefs, 
his  old  affections,  so  rise  up  through  the  tones  of  that 
marvellous  voice,  his  loneliness  and  homelessness  so 
plead  for  him  that  old  Lear,  beaten  by  the  winds, 
deserted  and  houseless,  is  not  more  wrapped  about 
with  honor  than  poor  old  Rip,  wandering  through  the 
streets  of  his  native  village. 

Exactly  wherein  lies  Mr.  Jefferson's  chief  power  it 
is  not  easy  to  show.  With  the  genius  inherited  from 
"  Old  Joe "  he  possesses  a  mind  richly  stored,  a 
refined  taste,  and  that  rare  knowledge  of  his  art  which 
teaches  the  force  of  repression  as  well  as  expression. 
Mr.  Jefferson  is  also  a  close  and  conscientious  student. 
The  words  that  flow  from  his  tongue  in  such  liquid 
resonance  seem  the  very  simplest  of  utterances.  And 
so  they  are  ;  but  it  would  be  interesting  to  know  how 
many  hours  of  study  it  cost  him  to  arrive  at  that  sim- 
plicity which  is  the  crowning  charm  and  secret  of  suc- 
cess. Why,  in  the  very  speaking  of  his  daup^hter's 
name  in  the  last  scene — in  that  matchless  appeal  to 
her  for  recognition — " Afeeiiie,  Mcenie" — there  is  a 
depth  of  pathos,  tenderness,  and  beauty  that  charms 
like  music,  and  attunes  the  heart  to  the  finest  sense  of 
pity. 

*  Among  the  Comedians  ':  Atlantic  Monthly,  June, 
1867. 

How  delicately  and  with  what  exquisite  tone,  as  the 
painters   would  say,  Mr.  Jefferson    plays    the    part, 


MR.   JOSEPH  JEFFERSON,  165 

everybody  knows.  People  return  again  and  again  to 
see  him.  as  to  see  a  lovely  landscape  or  a  favorite 
picture.  Indeed,  it  is  the  test  of  high  art  that  it  does 
not  pall  in  its  impression.  There  is  no  acting,  per- 
haps, so  little  exaggerated  as  this  of  Rip  Van  Winkle, 
but  there  is  none  so  effective.  It  is  wholly  free  from 
declamation,  and  from  every  kind  of  fustian.  It  is  ab- 
solutely nature,  but  it  is  the  nature  of  art.  There  is 
something  touching  in  the  intentness  of  the  audience, 
which  is  seldom  broken  by  ordinary  applause,  but  which 
responds  sensitively  to  every  emotion  of  the  actor.  And 
the  curious  felicity  of  his  naturalness  is  observable  in 
the  slightest  detail.  No  wholly  imaginary  object  was 
ever  more  palpably  real  than  the  dog  Schneider.  And 
he  is  made  so  merely  by  a  word  or  two  from  Rip. 

George  William  Curtis,  in  Harper  s  Monthly, 
March,  1871. 

Mr.  Jefferson  is  an  actor  of  exquisite  art.  As  a  come- 
dian, he  would  hold  his  own  beside  the  finest  comic 
artist  of  France — M.  Regnier,  M.  Got,  M.  Coquelin. 
The  portrait  he  presents  of  Rip  Van  Winkle  is  a  sin- 
gularly felicitous  example  of  the  possible  union  of 
great  breadth  and  freedom  of  effect  with  the  utmost 
delicacy  and  refinement.  Mr.  Jefferson's  Rip  Van 
Winkle  has  an  ideal  elevation,  while  at  the  same  time 
it  is  thoroughly  human.  It  is  saturated  with  kindly 
and  wholesome  humor,  and  the  spirit  of  gentleness 
pervades  it.  Although  Rip  himself  is  an  idle  good- 
for-nothing  and  ne'er-do-well,  we  accept  Mr.  Jeffer- 
son's presentation  of  him  as  a  personification  of  the 
beautiful  and  the  good. 

Brander  Matthews,  in  Scribners  Magazine,  July, 
1879. 


1 66  MJi.   JOSEPH  JEFFERSON. 

A  man  of  singularly  sweet,  gentle  and  sincere 
nature,  of  strong  likes  and  dislikes,  full  of  imagination 
colored  by  superstition,  of  profound  religious  convic- 
tions— which  are  his  own,  and  upon  which  we  shall  lay 
no  coarse  hand — with  an  underflow  of  shrewd  thought 
that  imperceptibly  aftects  his  art,  and  which  shows  it- 
self therein  to  watchful  eyes,  especially  in  Rip  and  Asa 
Trenchard,  and  even  in  Bob  Acres.  He  is  in  fact,  all 
the  better  part  of  Rip,  with  all  the  baser  part  omitted. 
"  What  are  you  teaching  your  boys  ?  "  we  once  asked 
him.  "  To  fish  and — tell  the  truth,"  was  his  slow, 
thoughtful  reply  in  the  words  of  Sir  \\'alter  Scott. 
So  might  Rip  in  his  shrewder  moods  have  answered 
the  same  query. 

L.  Clark  Davis,  in  Lippencott's  Magazine,  July, 
1879. 

Jefferson  has  considered  that  a  country  squire  need 
not  necessarily  reek  of  the  ale-house  and  the  stables  ; 
that  Acres  is  neither  the  noisy  and  vulgar  Tony  Lump- 
kin, nor  the  "  horsey  "  Goldjinch  ;  that  there  is,  in  a 
certain  way,  a  little  touch  of  the  Wildrake  in  his  com- 
position ;  that  he  is  not  less  kindly  because  vain  and 
empty-headed  ;  that  he  has  tender  ties  of  home,  and 
a  background  of  innocent,  domestic  life  ;  that  his 
head  is  completely  turned  by  contact  with  town 
fashions  ;  that  there  may  be  a  kind  of  artlessness  in 
his  ridiculous  assumption  of  rakish  airs  ;  that  there  is 
something  a  little  pitiable  in  his  braggadocio  ;  that  he 
is  a  good  fellow,  at  heart  ;  and  that  his  sufferings  in 
the  predicament  of  the  duel  are  genuine,  intense,  and 
quite  as  doleful  as  they  are  comic.  All  this  appears 
in  the  personation.     You  are  struck  at  once  by  the 


MR.  JOSEPH  JEFFERSOM.  16? 

elegance  of  the  figure,  the  grace  of  movement,  the 
winning  appearance  and  temperament ;  and  Bob  Acres 
gets  your  friendship,  and  is  a  welcome  presence, 
laugh  at  him  as  you  may.  Jefferson  has  introduced  a 
comic  blunder  with  which  to  take  him  out  of  the  first 
scene  with  Absolute,  and  also  some  characteristic 
comic  business  for  him,  before  a  mirror,  when  Sir 
Lucius,  coming  upon  him  unawares,  finds  him  practis- 
ing bows  and  studying  deportment.  He  does  not 
seem  contemptible  in  these  situations  ;  he  only  seems, 
as  he  ought  to  seem,  absurdly  comical.  He  communi- 
cates to  every  spectator  his  joy  in  the  success  of  his 
curl-papers  ;  and  no  one,  even  amidst  uncontrollable 
laughter,  thinks  of  his  penning  of  his  challenge  as 
otherwise  than  a  proceeding  of  the  most  serious 
importance.  He  is  made  a  lovable  human  being,  with 
an  experience  of  action  and  suffering,  and  our  sym- 
pathies with  him,  on  his  battle-field,  would  be  really 
painful  but  that  we  are  in  the  secret,  and  know  it  will 
turn  out  well.  The  interior  spirit  of  Jefferson's  im- 
personation, then,  is  soft  humanity  and  sweet  good- 
nature ;  and  the  traits  that  he  has  especially  empha- 
sized are  ludicrous  vanity  and  comic  trepidation.  He 
never  leaves  a  moment  unfilled  with  action,  when  he 
is  on  the  scene,  and  all  his  by-play  is  made  tributary 
to  the  expression  of  these  traits.  One  of  his  fresh 
and  deft  touches  is  the  trifling  with  Captain  Absolute's 
gold-laced  hat,  and — obviously  to  the  eye — consider- 
ing whether  it  would  be  becoming  to  himself.  The 
acting  is  full  of  these  bits  of  felicitous  embroidery. 
Nothing  could  possibly  be  more  humorous  or  more 
full  of  nature  than  the  mixture  of  assurance,  uneasy 
levity,    and    dubious   apprehension,  at    the    moment 


1 68  MR.   JOSEPH  JEFFERSON. 

when  the  challenge  has  at  last  and  irrevocably  found 
its  way  into  Captain  Absolute  s  pocket.  The  rueful 
face,  then,  is  a  study  for  a  painter,  and  only  a  portrait 
could  do  it  justice.  The  mirth  of  the  duel  scene  it  is 
impossible  to  convey.  It  must  be  supreme  art  indeed 
which  can  arouse,  at  the  .same  instant,  as  this  does,  an 
almost  tender  solicitude  and  an  extinguishable  laugh- 
ter. The  little  introductions  of  a  word  or  two  here 
and  there  in  the  text,  made  at  this  point  by  the 
comedian,  are  delightfully  happy.  To  make  Acres 
say  that  he  doesn't  care  "  how  little  the  risk  is,"  was 
an  inspiration  ;  and  his  sudden  and  joyous  greetmg, 
"  How  are  you,  Falkland  ? " — with  the  relief  that  it 
implies,  and  the  momentary  return  of  the  airy  swagger, 
— is  a  stroke  of  genius.  The  performance,  altogether, 
is  as  exquisite  a  piece  of  comedy  as  ever  has  been 
seen,  in  our  time.  You  do  not  think,  till  you  look 
back  upon  it,  how  fine  it  is, — so  easy  is  its  manner, 
and  so  perfectly  does  it  sustain  the  illusion  of  real 
life. 

Wm.  Winter,  in  the  New  York  Tribune,  September 
1 6,  1880. 

By  the  way,  talking  of  Caleb  Plummer,  when  I 
opened  the  Winter  Garden,  in  1859,  having  engaged 
Joe  Jefferson  as  leading  comedian,  it  struck  me  that 
Caleb  Flummer  was  a  character  he  could  grasp.  He 
was  called  to  rehearsal,  and  the  part  was  placed  in 
his  hand.  I  shall  never  forget  the  expression  on  his 
face.  Approaching  him,  I  said  :  "  What's  the  matter, 
Joe?  "  "  Oh,"  he  replied,  "don't  ask  me  to  play  this. 
I  have  tried  it  in  the  old  edition  and  failed  in  it  con- 
spicuously.    You  have  brought  me  to  New  York.     Is 


MR.  JOSEPH  JEFFERSON.  I69 

this  to  be  my  opening  part  ?  "  I  tried  vainly  to  per- 
suade him  that  he  would  make  a  hit  in  it.  He  would 
not  see  it.  However,  I  was  obliged  to  insist,  and  he 
went  to  his  duty.  He  began  to  rehearse,  and  I  saw 
at  once  he  had  struck  the  wrong  key.  He  mistook 
the  character.  He  made  it  a  weary,  dreary,  senti- 
mental old  bore.  Rising  from  my  managerial  chair, 
I  stopped  the  rehearsal.  "  Sit  there,  Joe,"  I  said,  plac- 
ing him  in  my  seat.  I  took  his  place  on  the  stage  ; 
then,  giving  an  imitation  of  himself,  playing  the  char- 
acter as  I  knew  he  could  play  it,  in  a  comic,  simple, 
genial  vein,  I  had  not  spoken  three  speeches  before 
he  began  to  wriggle  in  his  chair  ;  and  then,  leap- 
ing up,  he  cried,  "  Stop  !  I  see  !  I  know  !  that  is 
enough  ; " — and  so  it  was.  He  struck  the  key. 
Those  who  saw  his  performance  can  understand  how 
fine  and  delicate  a  piece  of  work  his  portraiture  of  the 
old  toy-maker  was. 

But  this  was  in  1859.  Let  us  return  to  1865. 
Jefferson  was  anxious  to  appear  in  London.  All  his 
pieces  had  been  played  there.  The  managers  would 
not  give  him  an  appearance  unless  he  could  offer 
them  a  new  piay.  He  had  played  a  piece  called  '  Rip 
Van  Winkle,'  but  when  submitted  to  their  perusal,  they 
rejected  it.  Still  he  was  so  desirous  of  playing  Rip 
that  I  took  down  Washington  Irving's  story  and  read 
it  over.  It  was  hopelessly  undramatic.  "  Joe,  "  I  said, 
"  this  old  sot  is  not  a  pleasant  figure.  He  lacks 
romance.  I  dare  say  you  made  a  fine  sketch  of  the 
old  beast,  but  there  is  no  interest  in  him.  He  may  be 
picturesque,  but  he  is  not  dramatic.  I  would  prefer 
to  start  him  in  a  play  as  a  young  scamp — thoughtless, 
gay,  just  such  a  curly-headed,  good-humored  fellow  as 


17o  MR.  JOSEPH  JEFFERSOM. 

all  the  village  girls  would  love,  and  the  children  and 
dogs  would  run  after."  Jefferson  threw  up  his  hands 
in  despair.  It  was  totally  opposed  to  his  artistic  pre- 
conception. But  I  insisted,  and  he  reluctantly  con- 
ceded. 

Well,  I  wrote  the  play  as  he  plays  it  now.  It  was 
not  much  of  a  literary  production,  and  it  was  with 
some  apology  it  was  handed  to  him.  He  read  it,  and 
when  he  met  me,  I  said  :  "  It  is  a  poor  thing,  Joe." 
"  Well,"  he  replied,  "  it  is  good  enough  for  me."  It  was 
produced.  Three  or  four  weeks  afterward  he  called 
on  me,  and  his  first  words  were  :  "  You  were  right 
about  making  Rip  a  young  man.  Now  I  could  not 
conceive  and  play  him  in  any  other  shape." 

Dion  Boucicault,  in  the  Critic,  April  7,  1883. 

Over  his  Caleb  in  our  reminiscences  we  like  to 
linger.  We  saw  it  often,  never  wearied  of  it,  and  were 
willing  to  go  to  Winter  Garden  at  least  once  a  week 
to  sympathize  with  Caleb,  to  laugh  at  and  rejoice  with 
him,  and  to  shed  over  him  tears  which  we  could  not 
restrain,  and  of  which  we  had  no  reason  to  be  ashamed. 
There  were  not  many  dry  eyes  in  the  house  those 
nights,  when  the  old  man  in  *  Chirp  the  Last '  began 
to  realize  that  his  dear  boy  from  the  golden  South 
Americas  was  alive  again  and  before  him  ;  and  when 
he  tried  to  tell  his  blind  girl  how  for  love  of  her  he 
had  deceived  her,  how  the  eyes  in  which  she  had  put 
her  trust  had  been  false  to  her  during  all  those  years, 
we  have  known  eyes  to  fill  and  to  run  over  on  the 
stage  itself. 

How  plainly  we  can  recall  that  scene  in  the  toy- 
maker's  cottage  ;  the  dolls,  and  Noah's  arks,  and  small 


MR.    JOSEPH  JEFFERSON.  171 

fiddles,  and  barking  dogs  ;  Bertha  making  the  dolls' 
dresses  ;  and  Caleb  in  his  sackcloth  coat,  which  she,  in 
her  blindness  and  her  fondness,  believed  to  be  a  garment 
that  the  Lord  Mayor  might  have  been  proud  of,  finish- 
ing up  a  great  toy  horse.  How  plainly  we  can  see  the 
thorough  goodness  of  the  old  man,  as  he  described  to 
Bertha  the  beautiful  things  by  which  they  were  sur- 
rounded, and  which  existed  only  in  his  loving,  doting 
old  heart  ;  that  quaint,  humorous  look  on  Caleb's 
face  as  he  painted  the  numerous  circles,  and  dots,  and 
stripes,  which  gave  to  his  preposterous  horse  a  likeness 
to  nothing  known  in  natural  history,  and  held  it  up 
with  the  satisfied  remark  that  he  did  not  see  how 
he  could  outlay  any  more  talent  on  the  animal,  at 
the  price.  He  was  not  Joseph  Jefferson,  but  Caleb 
Plummer  himself ;  this  was  not  a  play,  but  the  story 
realized. 

Laurence  Hutton  :  *  Plays  and  Players,'  chap, 
xxiv.,  pp.    197-9. 

If  any  one,  after  witnessing  Mr.  Jefferson's  Calebs 
will  take  the  trouble  to  read  carefully  Dickens's  beau- 
tiful little  story  of  the  '  Cricket  on  the  Hearth,'  he 
will  find  a  striking  illustration  of  the  truth  of  this 
theory  in  the  radical  difference  between  the  author's 
conception  of  the  old  toy-maker  and  the  actor's  expo- 
sition of  it.  There  is  not  a  trace  in  Mr.  Jefferson's 
Caleb  of  the  dull,  vacant,  hopeless  depression  which 
the  novelist  paints  with  so  pathetic  a  touch.  He  has 
not  the  dull  eye  and  vacuous  manner  which  tell  of  a 
spirit  crushed  by  perpetual  and  remediless  misery, 
because  there  is  not  in  the  comedian  himself  any  sym- 
pathy with  this  particular  phase  of  human  nature. 


172  MR.    JOSEPH  JEFFERSON. 

His  own  temperament  is  buoyant,  hopeful,  placid,  and 
sunny,  and  he  naturally — it  might  be  said,  necessarily 
— invests  Caleb  with  some  of  his  own  brightness  and 
humor.  He  effects  this,  too,  without  robbing  the  part 
of  any  of  its  exquisite  pathos.  He  even  heightens 
the  color  of  the  picture  by  the  artistic  employment  of 
contrast.  The  scene  with  the  blind  Bertha  and  Tack- 
leton  would  not  be  half  so  touching  and  suggestive  as 
it  is,  if  the  pitiful  anxiety  and  wistful  tenderness  of 
Caleb  at  this  juncture  were  not  emphasized  by  the 
memory  of  the  childlike  mirth  and  simple  gaiety  of 
his  meeting  with  Peerybingle,  in  the  preceding  scene. 
This  old  man,  so  ragged,  cold,  and  timid,  with  his 
grateful  appreciation  of  a  kind  word, — his  bustling, 
nervous  efforts  to  be  of  some  assistance, — his  beaming 
smile,  playing  around  the  pinched  and  drawn  old  lips, 
— his  bright  eye,  now  beaming  with  merriment,  now 
eloquent  with  love  or  commiseration, — is  a  creation  so 
absolutely  human  and  real  that,  for  the  moment, 
all  sense  of  the  wonderful  skill  which  creates  the  illu- 
sion is  lost. 

The  full  extent  of  that  skill  may  be  appreciated  best 
by  comparing  this  study  of  Caleb  with  that  of  Rip,  and 
noting,  not  the  occasional  intonation,  the  curious  little 
gasp,  and  other  trifling  points  common  to  both  imper- 
sonations, but  the  radical  differences  which  exist 
between  them.  These  are  to  be  found,  not  in  the  vari- 
ety of  costume  only, — the  only  pretense  of  versatility 
afforded  by  the  ordinary  hack-actor  of  the  day, — but 
in  the  man  himself,  in  his  walk,  in  his  gestures,  in  his 
carriage,  in  his  address,  in  his  voice,  and  in  his  laugh. 
The  only  constant  point  of  resemblance  between  the 
two  men  is  in  the  matter  of  age.     In  all  other  respects 


MR.    JOSEPH  JEFFERSON-.  I73 

they  are  as  opposite  as  the  poles.  There  is  nothing 
in  common  between  the  reckless  and  shameless,  if 
fascinating,  jollity  of  Rip  and  the  sweet,  unselfish, 
indomitable  cheerfulness  of  Caleb,  or  between  the 
methods  which  throw  a  glamour  of  poetry  and  romance 
about  the  forlorn  and  forgotten  reveller  and  those 
which  are  so  infinitely  pathetic  in  the  case  of  the  old 
toy-maker.  On  the  one  hand,  a  detestable  character 
is  endowed  with  irresistible  charm  by  the  sheer  force 
of  poetic  imagination  ;  and  on  the  other,  a/iaiure  of  a 
type  at  once  the  simplest  and  the  highest  is  portrayed 
with  a  truth  which  is  as  masterly  as  it  is  affecting. 
There  is  nothing  in  *  Rip  Van  Winkle  '  more  touch- 
ing than  those  scenes  where  Caleb  listens  while  Dot 
reveals  to  Be?-tha  the  story  of  his  noble  deceit,  and 
where  he  recognizes  the  son  whom  he  deemed  lost  in 
"  the  golden  South  Americas."  The  play  of  emotion 
on  Mr.  Jefferson's  face  at  the  moment  of  recognition, 
as  wonderment,  doubt,  and  hope  are  succeeded  by 
certainty  and  rapturous  joy, — his  deprecatory,  spas- 
modic action  as  he  turns  away  from  what  he  evidently 
fears  is  a  delusion  of  the  senses, — and  his  final  rush 
into  the  arms  of  his  son, — are  triumphs  of  the  highest 
kind.  Here  the  actor  is  lost  in  the  fictitious  character, 
and  the  simulation  becomes  an  actual  impersonation, 
which  is  the  highest  possible  dramatic  achievement. 

J.  Ranken  Towse,  in  the  Century  Magazine,  Jan- 
uary, 1884. 

Jefferson's  persistent  adherence  to  the  character  of 
Rip  Van  Winkle  has  often,  and  naturally,  been  made 
the  subject  of  inquiry  and  remark.  The  late  Charles 
Mathews  once  said  to  him  :  "  Jefferson,  I  am  glad  to 


174  MR.    JOSEPH  JEFFERSON: 

see  you  making  your  fortune,  but  I  hate  to  see  you 
doing  it  with  one  part  and  a  carpet-bag."  "  It  is  cer- 
tainly better,"  answered  the  comedian,  "to  play  one 
part  and  make  it  various,  than  to  play  a  hundred  parts 
and  make  them  all  alike." 

William  Winter  :  'The  Jeffersons,'/.  209. 

*  *  *  But  Joseph  Jefferson  is  unlike  them  all, 
— as  distinct,  as  unique,  and  also  as  exquisite  as 
Charles  Lamb  among  essayists,  or  George  Darley 
among  lyrical  poets.  No  actor  of  the  past  prefigured 
him, — unless,  perhaps,  it  was  John  Bannister, — and  no 
name  throughout  the  teeming  annals  of  art  in  the  nine- 
teenth century  has  shone  with  a  more  genuine  lustre, 
or  can  be  more  proudly  and  confidently  committed 
to  the  remembrance  and  esteem  of  posterity. 

Ibid,  p.  229. 


MR.  AND  MRS.  KENDAL. 


I7S 


Mark  you  yon  eager  throng  who  gaze  and  glow, 
All  fired  with  keen  delight  —  as  pastures  fair, 
Dowered  with  sunshine  in  the  midday  air, 

Gleam  in  the  presence  of  the  god  they  know  ! 

Each  lip  is  tremulous  with  rapture  :  lo  I 

Round  mouth  of  maid  the  laughing  circles  fare  ; 
Or  break  on  whitened  beards  or  boy-cheeks  bare  ; 

By  one  soft  smile  all  smiles  are  set  in  flow  I 

Erewhile,  perchance,  sad  sorrow  had  its  place, 
Revealing  pensive  brows,  and  fraught  with  fears. 
This  fair  one  to  her  magic  hath  no  bound  : 

Sweet  Rosalind  enchants  us  by  her  grace. 
Or  proud  Pauline  our  pity  gains  by  tears  — 

No  dearer  Queen  of  Art  the  whole  world  round  ! 
W.  Davenport  Adams. 


176 


MR.  AND  MRS.  KENDAL 


Margaret  Shafto  Robertson,  better  known  as  Miss 
"  Madge  "  Robertson,  best  known  as  Mrs.  Kendal,  was 
born  at  Great  Grimsby,  March  15, 1849.*  She  was  the 
youngest  of  a  family  of  twelve,  all  more  or  less  con- 
nected with  the  stage.  Mr.  T.  W.  Robertson,  the 
playwright,  was  her  eldest  brother,  more  than  twenty 
years  her  senior.  At  the  age  of  three  she  appeared  at 
the  Marylebone  Theatre,  London,  as  the  Blind  Child 
in  the  '  Seven  Poor  Travellers '  ;  and  at  six  she 
played  Eva  in  '  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  '  at  the  Bristol 
Theatre,  where  she  remained  for  several  years.  On 
July  29,  1865,  she  made  her  first  appearance  in  Lon- 
don (since  her  childhood),  playing  Ophelia  di\.\.\\^  Hay- 
market  to  the  Hamlet  of  Mr.  Walter  Montgomery, 
the  lessee  for  the  autumn  season  ;  and  a  month  later, 
at  the  same  theatre,  she  played  Desdeinona  to  the 
Othello  of  the  negro  tragedian,  Ira  Aldridge.  In  the 
autumn  of  1865  she  was  a  member  of  Mr.  Montgom- 
ery's company  at  the  Theatre  Royal,  Nottingham, 
and  on  Boxing  Night  of  the  same  year  she  appeared  as 
Anne  Carew  in  '  A  Sheep  in  Wolf's  Clothing,'  at  the 
opening  of  the  new  Theatre  Royal,  Hull.  Here  she 
remained  as  leading  lady  for  nearly  a  year.     In  the 

*  I S48  is  the  date  usually  given.  We  have  Mrs.  Kendal's  own 
authority  for  the  later  year. — \V,  A. 

177 


ryS  MR.    AND    MRS.    KENDAL. 

spring  of  1867  she  starred  at  Liverpool  and  Notting 
ham,  playing  Pauline,  Juliet^  Lady  Teazle,  Mrs.  Haller, 
Peg  Woffington  and  other  parts.  Returning  to  Lon- 
don, she  appeared  at  Drury  Lane  on  Easter  Monday, 
1867,  as  Edith  Fairlam,  the  heroine  of  Halliday's 
comedy-drama,  the  *  Great  City,'  and  in  the  following 
autumn  (Oct.  28)  she  joined  the  regular  Haymarket 
Company  under  Buckstone's  management.  Here  she 
appeared  with    Sothern   in  '  Our   American  Cousin,' 

*  Brother  Sam,'  and  '  David  Garrick,'  created  the  part 
of  Blanche  Dumont  in  '  A  Hero  of  Romance,'  Dr. 
Westland  Marston's  adaptation  of  the  '  Roman  d'un 
jeune  homme  pauvre,'  and  played  Hypolita  in  '  She 
Wou'd  and  She  Wou'd  Not '  to  Buckstone's  Trappanti. 
After  going  on  tour  with  the  Haymarket  Company  in 
the  autumn  of  1868,  she  left  it  for  a  short  time  and 
appeared   (Oct.   28)  at  the  Theatre  Royal,   Hull,  in 

*  Passion  Flowers,'  an  adaptation  of  *  On  ne  badine 
pas  avec  I'amour,'  made  especially  for  her  by  T.  W. 
Robertson.  At  the  opening  of  the  Gaiety  Theatre, 
London  (Dec.  21,  1868),  she  appeared  with  Alfred 
Wigan  in  '  On  the  Cards,'  and  at  the  same  theatre  in 
the  following  spring  (March  28)  she  played  Lady 
Clara  Vere  de  Vere  in  T.  W.  Robertson's  '  Dreams.' 
Two  months  later  she  rejoined  the  Haymarket  Com- 
pany, then  on  tour,  playing  the  leading  parts  in  all 
its  stock  comedies  and  adding  to  her  repertory  Miss 
Hardcastle,  Rosalind,  and  Viola.  She  now  remained  a 
member  of  the  Haymarket  Company  for  five  and  a-half 
years,  during  which  her  talent  steadily  ripened  and 
her  popularity  as  steadily  increased. 

Mr.  W.  H.  Kendal  (William  Hunter  Grimston)  had 
joined  the  Haymarket  Company  three  years  earlier. 


MR.    AND    MRS.    KENDAL.  1 79 

Born  in  London,  Dec.  i6,  1843,  he  made  his  first 
appearance  on  the  stage  at  the  Royal  Soho  Theatre 
(now  the  Royalty)  in  r86i,  playing  the  juvenile  lover 
in  a  little  piece  called  '  A  Wonderful  Woman.'  After 
a  good  deal  of  experience  at  the  Soho  Theatre,  and  a 
short  engagement  at  the  Moor  Street  Theatre,  Birm- 
ingham, which  was  brought  to  an  end  by  the  insolv- 
ency of  the  manager,  he  joined  the  stock  company 
at  the  Theatre  Royal,  Glasgow,  in  the  autumn  of  1862. 
Here  he  was  brought  into  contact  with  the  leading 
stars  of  the  period.  Miss  Helen  Faucit,  Charles 
Kean,  G.  V.  Brooke,  Phelps,  Fechter,  Anderson, 
Boucicault,  Sothern  and  Charles  James  Mathews. 
Mr.  Mathews  interested  himself  greatly  in  Mr.  Ken- 
dal's career,  and  procured  his  engagement  at  the 
Haymarket,  where  he  appeared,  Oct.  31,  1866,  as 
Augustus  Mandeviile  in  *  A  Dangerous  Friend.'  He 
was  well  received  and  was  soon  in  possession  of  the 
leading  juvenile  parts.  He  "^X^y^di  Orlando  dsidi  Romeo 
to  the  Rosalind  and  Juliet  of  Mrs.  Scott -Siddons, 
Don  Octavio  in  the  before-mentioned  revival  of  *  She 
Wou'd  and  She  Wou'd  Not,'  Manfred  in  Mosenthal's 
*  Pietra  '  and  Bob  Gassit  in  the  first  production  of 
'  Mary  Warner,'  the  two  last-named  parts  during  an 
engagement  of  Miss  Bateman  in  1868-9.  I^  was  in 
the  following  summer,  as  we  have  seen,  that  Miss 
Madge  Robertson  became  a  permanent  member  of  the 
Haymarket  Company.  Her  marriage  with  Mr.  Ken- 
dal took  place  at  St.  Saviour's  Church,  Manchester, 
Aug.  7,  1869. 

Mrs.  Kendal's  first  "  creation  "  at  the  Haymarket 
was  Lilian  Vavasour  in  *  New  Men  and  Old  Acres,' 
by  Tom  Taylor  and  A.  W.  Dubourg  (Oct.  25,  1869). 


l8o  MR.    AND   MRS.    KENDAL. 

This  performance  established  her  reputation,  and  Mr. 
W.  S.  Gilbert  was  quick  to  avail  himself  of  her  com- 
bined humor  and  pathos,  dignity  and  tenderness,  in 
his  series  of  fantastic  comedies  in  blank  verse,  com- 
mencing (Nov.  19,  1870)  with  the  'Palace  of 
Truth,'  in  which  she  played  Zeolide  to  Mr.  Kendal's 
Philamine.  '  Pygmalion  and  Galatea  '  followed  (Dec 
9,  187 1)  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kendal  in  the  two  title- 
parts  ;  and  in  the  '  Wicked  World  '  (Jan.  4,  1873) 
Mrs.  Kendal  played  Selene  and  her  husband  Ethais. 
Mr.  Gilbert's  modern  comedy  *  Charity '  (Jan.  3, 
1874)  was  not  so  successful,  but  the  fault  did  not  lie 
either  in  Mrs.  Kendal's  performance  of  Mrs.  Van 
Brugh  or  in  Mr.  Kendal's  Frederic  Smailey.  Mean- 
while, both  in  London  and  on  the  provincial  tours  of 
Mr.  Buckstone's  company,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kendal  had 
appeared  at  intervals  with  the  greatest  success  in  the 
legitimate  repertory  of  the  Haymarket,  playing 
Orlando  and  Rosalind  in  '  As  You  Like  It,'  Captain 
Absolute  and  Lydia  Languish,  in  the  '  Rivals,'  Charles 
Surface  and  Lady  Teazle  in  the  '  School  for  Scandal,' 
etc.,  etc.  They  had  also  produced  with  much  applause 
several  bright  little  duologues,  such  as  '  Uncle's  Will,' 
by  Mr.  S.  Theyre  Smith,  and  '  A  Little  Change,'  by 
Mr.  Sydney  Grundy,  while  Mr.  Kendal  was  very 
successful  in  such  parts  as  Jeremy  Diddler  and  Horatio 
Craven  in  '  His  First  Champagne.' 

On  leaving  the  Haymarket  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kendal 
went  for  a  short  time  (Jan.  and  Feb.,  1875),  to  the 
Opera  Comique,  then  under  the  managment  of  Mr. 
Hollingshead,  appearing  in  the  '  Lady  of  Lyons,'  '  As 
You  Like  It,'  and  '  She  Stoops  to  Conquer.'  In  the 
following  spring  (March  12)  they  joined  the  company 


MR.    AND    MRS.    KENDAL.  l8l 

with  which  Mr.  Hare  commenced  management  at  the 
Court  Theatre,  playing  Harry  Armitage  and  Lady  Flora 
in  Mr.  Coghlan's  '  Lady  Flora  '  ;  Christian  Douglas 
and  Mrs.  Fitzroy  in  '  A  Nhie  Days'  Wonder,' by  Mr. 
Hamilton  Aide  ;  Prince  Florian  and  the  Lady  Hilda 
in  Mr.  Gilbert's  'Broken  Hearts' ;  and  Colonel  Blake 
and  Susan  Hartley  in  Mr.  Palgrave  Simpson's  adap- 
tation of  the  '  Pattes  de  mouche  '  entitled  '  A  Scrap  of 
Paper.'  At  the  beginning  of  Oct.,  1876,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Kendal  migrated  to  the  Prince  of  Wales's  and  appeared 
in  the  productions  of  '  Peril,'  '  London  Assurance,'  and 
*  Diplomacy,'  particulars  of  which  will  be  found  in  the 
memoir  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bancroft  included  in  this 
volume.  They  then  returned  to  the  Court  Theatre, 
appearing  (Jan.  4,  1879)  in  *A  Scrap  of  Paper.' 
This  was  followed  (Feb.  15)  by  the  '  Ladies'  Battle,' 
in  which  they  played  Gustave  de  Grignon  and  the 
Conitesse  d' Autreval,  and  by  the  'Queen's  Shilling* 
(April  19),  an  adaptation  by  Mr.  G.  W.  Godfrey  of  the 
'  Fils  de  famille,'  in  which  their  parts  were  Frank 
Maitland  and  Kate  Greville.  The  popularity  of  the 
'  Queen's  Shilling '  was  not  exhausted  when,  in  the 
following  autumn,  Mr.  Kendal  went  into  partnership 
with  Mr.  Hare  in  the  management  of  the  St.  James's 
Theatre,  converting  this  unluckiest  of  houses  into  one 
of  the  most  popular  and  fashionable  theatres  of  Lon- 
don. The  following  is  a  list  of  the  productions  at  the 
St.  James's  under  the  Hare-Kendal  management : — 
1879  :  Oct.  4,  Val  Prinsep's  '  Monsieur  le  Due' — 
Mr.  Hare,  Richelieu  ;  and  the  '  Queen's  Shilling  ' — Mr. 
Hare,  Colonel  Daunt ;  Dec.  18,  Tennyson's  '  Falcon  ' — 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kendal,  Count  Federigo  and  the  Lady 
Giovanna. 


1 02  MR.    AND    MRS.    KENDAL. 

1880  :  March  6,  S.  Theyre  Smith's  '  Old  Cronies  '  ; 
March  13,  revival  of  '  Still  Waters  Run  Deep' — Mr, 
and  Mrs.  Kendal,  John  Mildmay  and  Mrs.  Sternhold, 
Mr.  Hare,  Mr.  Potter;  the  '  Queen's  Shilling  '  was 
revived  for  a  few  weeks  toward  the  end  of  May  ; 
June  17,  a  revival  of  the  'Ladies'  Battle'  and  'A 
Regular  Fix  ' — Mr.  Kendal,  Sir  Hugh  de  Brass  ; 
Oct.  9,  *  William  and  Susan,'  an  adaptation  by 
W.  G.  Wills  of  Jerrold's  '  Black  Eye'd  Susan'— Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Kendal  in  the  title  parts,  Mr.  Hare,  the 
Admiral ;  Dec.  4,  'Good  Fortune,'  an  adaptation  by 
Charles  Coghlan  of  the  *  Roman  d'  un  jeune  homme 
pauvre  ' — Mr.  and  Mrs.   Kendal,   Charles  Denis    and 

Isabel. 

« 

1881  :  Jan.  8,  Mr.  Pinero's  'Money-Spinner' — Mr, 
and  Mrs.  Kendal,  Lord  Kengussie  and  Millicent  Boycott, 
Mr.  Hare,  Baron  Croodle ;  and  'A  Sheep  in  Wolf's 
Clothing ' — Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kendal,  Jasper  and  Anne 
Careiv  ;  April  18,  after  Easter  Monday,  the  '  Money- 
Spinner '  was  played  alternately  with  the  '  Lady  of 
Lyons' — Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kendal,  Claude  Mel notte  and 
Pauline,  Mr.  Hare,  Colonel Damas  ;  May  28,  'Coralie,' 
an  adaptation  by  G.  W.  Godfrey  of  Delpit's  '  Fils  de 
Coralie  ' — Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kendal,  Captain  Mainwaring 
and  Mrs.  Trevor,  Mr.  Hare,  Mr.  Critchell ;  Oct.  27, 
revival  of  'Home' — Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kendal,  Colonel 
White  Sind  Mrs.  Pinchbeck,  Mr.  Hare,  Captain  Mount- 
raffe,  and  the  '  Cape  Mail,'  adapted  by  Clement  Scott 
from  '  Jeanne  qui  pleure  et  Jeanne  qui  rit ' — Mrs.  Ken- 
dal, Mrs.  Frafik  Preston  ;  Dec.  29,  Pinero's  *  Squire  ' — 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kendal,  Lieutenant  Thorndyke  and  Kate 
Verity,  Mr.  Hare,  the  Rev.  Paul  Dormer;  this  produc- 
tion was  followed  by  a  memorable  controversy  in  which 


MR.    AND   MRS.    KENDAL.  183 

Messrs.  Hare,  Kendal  and  Pinero  were  accused  of 
having  made  unfair  use  of  a  dramatic  version  by 
Mr.  Comyns  Carr  of  Thomas  Hardy's  *  Far  from  the 
Madding  Crowd.' 

1882  :  Dec.  9,  '  Impulse,'  an  adaptation  by  B.  C. 
Stephenson  of  the  '  Maison  du  mari '  by  X.  de 
Montepin  and  V.  Kervany — Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kendal, 
Captain  Crichton  and  Mrs.  Beresford. 

1883:  Oct.  20, '  Young  Folks'  Ways  '  ('Esmeralda '), 
a  play  by  Mrs.  F.  H.  Burnett  and  TvIr.W.  H.  Gillette, 
known  in  America  as  *  Esmeralda  ' — Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ken- 
dal, Estabrook  and  Nora  Desmond,  Mr.  Hare,  Old 
Rogers  j  Dec.  20,  a  revival  of '  A  Scrap  of  Paper,'  and 
S.  Theyre  Smith's  *  A  Case  for  Eviction.' 

1884:  April  17,  the  '  Ironmaster,' a  translation  by 
A.  W.  Pinero  of  Ohnet's  '  Maitre  de  forges  ' — Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Kendal,  Philippe  Derblay  and  Claire  de  BeauprL 

1885  :  Jan.  24,  a  revival  of  '  As  You  Like  It ' — Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Kendal,  Orlando  and  Rosalind,  Mr.  Hare, 
Touchstone  ;  April  6,  a  revival  of  the  '  Queen's  Shil- 
ling,' and  '  A  Quiet  Rubber  ' — Mr.  Hare,  Lord  Kil- 
dare ;  June  11,  a  revival  of  the  'Money-Spinner,* 
and  S.  Theyre  Smith's  '  Castaways ' — Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Kendal,  Julian  Larkspur  and  Lilian  Selkirk  ;  Oct.  31, 
'  Mayfair,'  adapted  by  A.  W.  Pinero  from  Sardou's 
'  Maison  neuve  ' — Mr  and  Mrs.  Kendal,  Geoffrey  and 
Agnes  Roydant,  Mr.  Hare,  Nicholas  Barrable. 

1886  :  Feb.  13, '  Antoinette  Rigaud,'  translated  by 
Ernest  Warren  from  the  French  of  Raymond  Des- 
landes — Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kendal,  Henri  de  Tourvel  and 
Antoinette  Rigaud,  Mr.  Hare,  General  de  Pr^fo7id j 
May  25,  the  'Wife's  Sacrifice,' adapted  by  Sydney 
Grundy  and  Sutherland  Edwards  from   '  Martyre !  ' 


184  MR.    AND    MRS.    KENDAL. 

by  D'Ennery  and  Tarbe — Mr.  and  Mrs.  Kendal,  the 
Count  and  Countess  de  Moray,  Mr.  Hare,  Mr.  Drake. 
Mrs.  Kendal  is  an  actress  of  rich  endowment  and  rare 
accomplishment.  In  face  and  figure  she  is  the  ideal 
incarnation  of  generous  English  womanhood.  Her 
beauty  is  one  of  expression  rather  than  of  form.  It  is 
the  outward  and  visible  sign  of  bodily  and  mental 
health,  with  nothing  of  the  hectic  nervousness  or 
weird  "  intensity "  which  over-civilization  has  ren- 
dered fashionable  for  the  moment.  She  has  at  her 
fingers'  ends  all  the  methods  of  modern  comedy  and 
drama,  and  thousands  of  play-goens,  especially  in  the 
provinces,  retain  a  grateful  recollection  of  her  per- 
formances in  Shaksperean  and  eighteenth  century 
comedy,  with  the  old  Haymarket  Company.  At  the 
Haymarket,  no  doubt,  there  lingered  many  of  the 
best  traditions  of  the  "  palmy  days  "  ;  but  it  may  be 
doubted  whether  Mrs.  Kendal  ever  fully  acquired 
the  especial  arts  of  diction  essential  to  the  perfect 
delivery  of  Shaksperean  poetry  and  even  of  Lytto- 
nian  rhetoric.  It  is  a  mistake  to  suppose  that  she  is 
not  a  poetical  actress.  She  can  on  occasion  make 
poetry  of  commonplace  modern  prose,  and  the  touch- 
ing dignity  of  her  Monna  Giovanna  in  the  '  Falcon ' 
was  a  poem  in  itself.  It  is,  however,  in  the  expres- 
sion of  unsophisticated,  unidealized,  every  day  emo- 
tion that  she  chiefly  excels.  Her  talent  is  so  genuine 
that  it  acts  as  a  sort  of  touchstone  to  the  matter  she 
is  delivering,  and  fails  her  when  brought  into  contact 
with  pinchbeck  sentiment  and  mere  convention.  She 
is  never  seen  at  her  best  in  characters  which  afford  no 
scope  for  her  fresh  and  delicate  humor.  Susan  Hart- 
ley  in    '  A  Scrap   of    Paper,'   Kate    Greville   in  the 


MR.    AND    MRS.    KENDAL.  185 

'Queen's  Shilling,'  Susan  in  'William  and  Susan,'  and 
Kate  Verity  in  the  '  Squire '  are  among  her  best  per- 
formances— the  two  first-mentioned  characters,  though 
French  in  origin,  having  been  thoroughly  Anglicized. 
She  has  of  late  been  condemned,  unfortunately,  to 
represent  a  number  of  the  sickly  sentimental  heroines 
of  third-rate  French  drama — characters  in  which  she 
often  shows  great  power,  passion  and  pathos,  but  which 
afford  no  opportunity  for  the  development  of  the 
finer  and  more  characteristic  phases  of  her  talent. 

The  preponderance  of  French  drama  in  the  St. 
James's  bills  has  also  been  to  the  disadvantage  of 
Mr.  Kendal,  whose  pathos  is  apt  to  ring  rather  false, 
while,  as  a  light  comedian,  he  has  few  rivals  on  the 
stage.  His  Colonel  Blake  in  '  A  Scrap  of  Paper  '  is  an 
admirable  piece  of  acting  ;  as  is  his  Frank  Maitland 
in  the  '  Queen's  Shilling,'  where  he  rises  in  the  last 
act  to  genuine  power  and  originality.  These  qualities, 
indeed,  are  seldom  absent  from  any  of  his  perform- 
ances, but  in  the  self-sacrificing  lovers  and  histrionic 
husbands  of  French  drama  they  are  combined  with  a 
throaty  and  sing-song  utterance  and  an  exaggerated 
dignity  of  demeanor  which  shows  that  the  actor  is  not 
at  his  ease.  Mr.  Kendal  is  much  applauded  by  the 
public  in  the  parts  of  brainless  "  swells "  such  as 
Lord  Kengussie  in  the  '  Money-Spinner  '  and  Captain 
Crichton  in  '  Impulse.'  In  these  he  no  doubt  displays 
much  comiG  power,  but  it  is  unjust  to  his  talent  to 
place  them  among  his  best  performances.  A  nincom- 
poop can  play  a  nincompoop,  but  it  takes  a  man  of 
parts  to  play  a  man  of  parts,  and  this,  when  he  has  , 
the  chance,  Mr.  Kendal  can  do  to  admiration. 

William  Archer. 


1^6  MR.    AfVD    MA'S.    KENDAL. 

Whether  Mr.  Tennyson's  '  Falcon,'  which  resembles 
an  ordinary  drama  as  a  bas-relief  resembles  a  boldly- 
sculptured  group,  keep  the  stage  or  not,  it  has  at  least 
been  the  occasion  of  displaying  with  singular  clearness 
the  delicate  as  well  as  forcible  talent  of  Mrs.  Madge 
Robertson  Kendal.  There  was  the  more  need  for  an 
actress  skilled  in  rendering  the  softer  emotions,  since 
Monna  Giovanna,  magnificent  in  her  queenly  robes,  is 
an  all  too  stately  dame  to  move  ordinary  human  hearts 
to  their  innermost  depth.  It  is  very  doubtful  whether 
in  less  skilful  hands  the  Italian  lady  would  inspire 
sympathy.  She  is  too  remote  in  her  icy  grandeur  for 
common  folk  to  care  for,  were  it  not  that  Mrs.  Kendal 
invests  the  anxious  mother  with  a  tenderness  pecu- 
liarly her  own.  Not  for  the  first  time  has  this  admir- 
able artist  delineated  a  womanly  woniiin  ;  for  it  is  her 
special  faculty  to  give  sweetness  to  her  impersona- 
tions. It  is  perhaps  not  altogether  surprising  that  a 
nature  so  highly  gifted  with  sensibility  should  at  the 
same  time  be  keenly  appreciative  of  every  shade  of 
humor.  As  great  wit  is  said  to  be  the  near  ally  of 
madness,  so  is  the  soul  accessible  to  pathos  equally 
perceptive  of  fun.  Much  of  the  charm  of  Mrs.  Ken- 
dal's acting  in  characters  more  suited  to  her  talent 
than  Monna  Giot>an?ia  is  due  to  the  archness 
with  which  she  contrives  to  invest  them.  Without 
sacrificing  for  an  instant  the  serious  interest  of  the 
situation,  she  contrives  to  indicate  by  a  sparkle  of  the 
eye  or  the  slightest  movement  of  the  lip  that  she  sees 
what  fools  Colonel  Daunt  an'd  Doras  unspeakable 
mother  are  making  of  themselves.  This  power  of 
subtle  indication,  one  of  the  most  valuable  of  his- 
trionic gifts,  is  in  the  case  of   Mrs.  Kendal  strength- 


MR.    AND   MRS.    KENDAL.  187 

ened  by  a  perfect  .expression  of  simplicity.  The 
faculty  of  delineating  that  simplicity  which  reveals 
itself  in  tones,  looks  and  gestures  indicating  surprise, 
is  one  of  the  highest  accomplishments  of  an  actress. 
Mrs.  Kendal  has  both  of  these  powers  in  perfection — 
the  archness  arising  from  a  sort  of  astonished  amuse- 
ment at  what  is  going  on,  and  the  equally  telling  air 
of  absolute  unconsciousness  which  characterizes  such 
a  personation  as  Galatea.  It  is  true  that  an  actress 
who  makes  her  first  appearance  at  the  age  of  four 
has  an  advantage  over  those  who  commence  their  art 
at  the  mature  age  of  eighteen  or  twenty,  but  neither 
critics  nor  public  care  for  means.  They  look  only  at 
results,  and  see  in  Mrs.  Kendal  an  actress  who  can 
make  the  pathetic  and  hum'orous  chords  vibrate  in 
many  keys.  Her  rendering  of  Ltliaft  Vavasour  is  an 
excellent  instance  of  this  variable  faculty  of  inter- 
weaving the  serious  fabric  with  bright  threads  of 
genuine  comedy.  In  a  minor  degree  her  acting  in  the 
*  Queen's  Shilling  '  exhibits  her  large  emotional  com- 
pass, but  yet  without  betraying  the  fund  of  real 
dramatic  power  hidden  behind  the  conventional  quiet 
manner  now  in  vogue.  In  Dora  she  is,  however,  quite 
another  person,  the  ingenue  of  sad  experience.  Few  will 
forget  the  exquisite  naivetd  of  her  astonishment  when 
a  legitimate  proposal  is  made  by  the  man  she  loves,  or 
the  sustained  force  of  her  acting  in  the  later  scenes. 
By  no  means  so  well  known  as  her  Lilian  Vavasour^ 
Dora.,  Galatea  and  Selene,  is  Mrs.  Kendal's  surpris- 
ing performance  in  '  Black-Eyed  Susan.'  As  Susan 
she  has  no  reason  for  toning  down  emotion  to 
tameness  ;  but  seizing  the  attention  of  her  audi- 
ence, holds  them  spell-bound,  until  with  moist  eyes 


l88  MJi.    AND   MUS.    KENDAL. 

and  husky  throats  they  own  the  power  of  a  perfect 
artist. 

Bernard  Henry  Becker,  in  the  Theatre,  February, 
1880. 

Mrs.  Kendal  (to  return  to  the  ladies  whom  we  have 
left)  is  a  thoroughly  accomplished,  business-like,  lady- 
like actress,  with  a  great  deal  of  intelligence,  a  great 
deal  of  practice  and  a  great  deal  of  charm.  She  is 
not,  we  should  say,  highly  imaginative,  but  she  has 
always  the  manner  of  reality,  and  her  reality  is  always 
graceful.  At  the  St.  James's  she  carries  the  weight 
of  the  whole  feminine  side  of  the  house — she  reigns 
alone  ;  and  it  is  a  proof  of  the  great  value  which  in 
London  attaches  to  a  competent  actress,  once  she  is 
secured,  that  Mrs.  Kendal  does  all  sorts  of  business. 
Yesterday  she  was  a  young  girl,  of  the  period  of  white 
muslin  and  blushes  ;  to-day  she  plays  Mrs.  Sternhold, 
in  a  revival  of  Tom  Taylor's  *  Still  Waters.' 

The  Century  Magazine,  January,  1881. 

Mrs.  Kendal's  position  is  unique.  She  has  set  her 
mark  deep  and  broad  on  the  contemporary  stage — a 
mistress  of  sunny  humor,  and  one  whose  pathetic  ex- 
pression comes  from  •*  out  of  the  depths  "  indeed  ;  the 
single  actress  of  our  time  in  England  who,  having 
done  with  a  part  all  that  critical  shrewdness  can 
desire,  or  popular  fancy  expect,  knows  at  the  right 
moment  how  to  do  that  indescribable  something  more 
which  makes  critical  shrewdness  lose  itself,  and  carries 
an  audience  off  its  feet, 

Frederick  Wedmore,  in  the  Nineteenth  Century, 
February,  1883. 


MR,    AND   MRS    KENDAL.  189 

There  is  an  inevitable  tendency,  even  on  the  part  of 
the  admirers  of  a  gifted  actress,  to  dwell  upon  the  past 
to  the  disadvantage  of  the  present  :  to  recall  the 
youthful  charm  of  earlier  performances,  and  to  under- 
value the  higher  accomplishment  of  maturity.  But 
those  who  would  have  us  so  judge  of  the  art  of  Mrs. 
Kendal  do  her  a  wrong,  for  she  was  never  so  great  as 
she  is  to-day.  And  never,  it  maybe  said,  has  the  suc- 
cess of  an  actress  been  more  amply  deserved.  Her 
whole  career  has  been  signalized  by  constant  and 
earnest  study,  and  by  a  steady  and  continuous  ad- 
vance. She  has  shown  an  unrivalled  ability  to  learn 
all  that  can  be  taught,  and  an  unfailing  power  to 
re-produce  all  that  she  has  learnt.  Her  art  is  perhaps 
the  highest  expression  of  educated  talent  that  is  to  be 
found  upon  our  stage.  If  it  has  not  the  charm  of 
genius,  it  is  at  least  free  from  the  anxieties  and  un- 
certainties of  genius  :  our  enjoyment  of  her  acting  is 
never  harassed  by  any  fear  of  failure,  for  her  effects 
are  always  carefully  planned  and  confidently  exe- 
cuted ;  and  in  a  weak  play,  or  a  weak  company,  she 
can  sometimes  take  upon  her  own  shoulders  the  whole 
weight  and  responsibility  of  a  performance  without 
flinching  and  without  any  evidence  of  fatigue.  It 
must  be  confessed,  however,  that  the  actress's  powers 
of  endurance  are  sometimes  sorely  tried.  There  is  a 
sort  of  superstition  amongst  dramatic  authors,  which 
I  do  not  think  is  shared  by  the  public,  that  Mrs.  Ken- 
dal, like  some  modern  Niobe,  must  be  always  in  tears, 
and  accordingly  these  gentlemen  are  apt  to  supply  her 
with  a  fund  of  pathos,  such  as  even  the  keenest  appe- 
tite for  sorrow  could  scarcely  digest  in  a  lifetime.  As  a 
matter  of  fact  it  is  not  under  these  conditions  that  the 


Ipo  MR.    AND    MRS.    KENDAL. 

finer  qualities  of  her  art  are  displayed  to  the  highest 
advantage.  She  is  at  her  best  where  strong  feeling  is 
kept  in  check  by  the  need  of  action,  and  where  the 
devotion  of  a  loyal  nature  quickens  a  woman's  wit  and 
grants  her  courage  and  resource.  She  is  at  her  best, 
in  short,  in  such  plays  as  the  *  Ladies'  Battle,'  or  the 
'  Sheep  in  Wolf's  Clothing.'  And  yet  in  passion  that 
belongs  of  right  to  the  situation  and  to  the  character, 
and  is  not  merely  imported  for  the  sake  of  effect — in 
the  passion,  for  instance,  of  the  great  scene  in  the 
'  Money  Spinner' — Mrs.  Kendal  can  strike  every  note 
of  feeling  with  power  and  conviction.  She  can  give 
reality  to  the  pathos  that  is  true,  and  it  is  not  altogether 
the  fault  of  the  actress  if  she  fails  to  grant  the  same 
sense  of  illusion  to  a  sickly  sentimentalism  that  spends 
itself  in  tears. 

J.  CoMYNS  Carr,  in  the  Fortnightly  Review,  Feb., 
1883. 

Mrs.  Stirling  and  Mrs.  Kendal  are  probably  the 
only  living  English  actresses  who  would  not  be  out  of 
place  on  the  stage  of  the  House  of  Moliere — are,  in 
other  words,  the  only  two  in  whose  work  the  quality 
of  art,  as  opposed  to  the  quality  of  temperament,  is 
abundant  and  complete  enough  to  make  them  the  fit- 
ting associates  of  players  so  consummate  as  Coquelin 
and  Delaunay  and  Got,  the  not  unworthy  successors 
of  artists  so  finished  and  so  rare  as  Arnould  Plessy 
and  the  sisters  Brohan.  The  elder  lady,  as  we  know, 
is  even  now  almost  a  tradition  ;  she  survives  as  an 
exemplar  of  culture  and  style  ;  her  influence  must 
soon,  by  the  very  nature  of  things,  become  inactive  and 
unpractical.     Mrs.  Kendal,  however,  is  at  the  prime  of 


MR.    AND    MRS.    KENDAL.  191 

life  and  the  top  of  authority  ;  is  in  the  plenitude  of 
her  gifts  and  at  the  acme  of  her  accomplishment.  For 
some  years  to  come  she  must  remain,  as  she  is  now, 
not  merely  a  central  figure  of  the  English  theatre, 
but,  to  those  who  are  interested  in  acting  pure  and 
simple,  not  certainly  the  most  natural  and  engaging, 
but  assuredly  the  most  finished  and  commanding  rep- 
resentative of  the  art  we  have. 

It  is  not  that  her  endowment  is  faultless  nor  her 
practice  altogether  perfect.  She  has  limitations,  and 
outside  these  she  is  only  interesting  ;  in  her  composi- 
tion there  is  an  artificial  strain  which,  masterly  as  her 
technical  acquirements  are,  she  has  never  succeeded 
in  wholly  dissembling  for  any  considerable  length  of 
time.  There  are  those,  we  believe,  to  whom  her  per- 
sonality is,  to  say  the  lea^t,  not  sympathetic  ;  and 
there  are  those  who  can  neither  tolerate  her  intention 
nor  admire  her  effect.  She  has  mannerisms,  of  course  ; 
but  they  are  habits  rather  of  thought  than  of  expres- 
sion, they  are  the  outcome,  not  so  much  of  profes- 
sional habits,  as  of  a  peculiar  morality  and  a  certain 
social  position. 

But  within  her  limits — which,  it  must  never  be  for- 
gotten, are  self-invented  and  self-imposed — what  an 
artist  she  is  !  How  carefully  she  constructs  a  part, 
and  how  consummately  she  executes  !  Voice,  face, 
presence,  habit,  disposition — everything  is  turned  to 
account  ;  the  personage  is  incarnate  in  the  actress,  is 
inseparable  from  the  peculiar  and  special  qualities  of 
her  peculiar  and  special  individuality.  And,  then, 
what  an  accomplishment  is  hers  !  what  sagacity  in 
invention  and  composition,  what  a  feeling  for  gesture, 
what  variety  in  intonation  !     You  hear  and  see  ;  and 


192  MR.    AND    MRS.    KENDAL. 

Mr.  Irving's  mystery  becomes  uninteresting,  and  Miss 
Terry  gets  to  be  no  more  than  an  inspired  schoolgirl. 
Here  is  the  artist  ;  here  the  incarnation  of  histrionics, 
the  very  genius  of  the  boards.  When  Mrs.  Kendal  is  at 
her  best — as  in  the  *  Squire,'  and  the  '  Money-Spinner,' 
and  '  Mayfair  ' — she  commands,  not  merely  emotion, 
but  an  enthusiasm  of  respect.  Her  technique  is  so 
sober,  yet  so  sufficient ;  her  intonation  so  abundant, 
yet  so  chastened  ;  her  capacity  so  rich  (within  certain 
limits),  yet  so  quick,  so  apprehensive,,  vigorous  and 
persuasive,  that  you  have  no  choice  but  surrender  at 
discretion.  Art  is  art,  and  Mrs.  Kendal  is  an  artist  : 
there  is  no  more  to  be  said  than  that.  You  may  wi.sh 
that  withal  she  might  have  touches  of  Rachel,  hints  of 
Ellen  Terry,  notes  (even)  of  Sarah  Bernhardt.  But 
you  end  by  admitting  that  Mrs.  Kendal  is  herself,  and 
that,  being  one  of  the  faithful,  you  could  spare  her 
less  than  any  luminary  of  the  English  stage. 
W.  E.  Henley,  in  the  State ^  April  17,  1886. 


MME.  MODJESKA. 


193 


There  are  four  sisters  known  to  mortals  well, 

Whose   names  are  Joy  and   Sorrow,  Death,  and 
Love : 
This  last  it  was  who  did  my  footsteps  move 

To  where  the  other  deep-eyed  sisters  dwell. 

To-night,  or  ere  yon  painted  curtain  fell. 

These,  one  by  one,  before  my  eyes  did  rove 
Through  the  brave  mimic  world  that  Shakspere 
wove. 

Lady  !  thy  art,  thy  passion  were  the  spell 

That  held  me,  and  still  holds  ;  for  thou  dost  show, 
With  those  most  high  each  in  his  sovereign  art, — 
Shakspere  supreme,  and  mighty  Angelo, — 

Great  art  and  passion  are  one.     Thine  too  the  part 
To  prove,  that  still  for  him  the  laurels  grow 
Who  reaches  through  the  mind  to  pluck  the  heart- 

Richard  Watson  Gilder. 


1^4 


MME.  MODJESKA. 


The  life  of  Mme.  Modjeska  is  quite  as  romantic 
and  certainly  as  interesting  as  many  of  the  plays  in 
which  she  has  appeared.  There  have  been  innumer- 
able stories  circulated  about  her  early  history  that  are 
not  true,  one  being  that  she  is  the  daughter  of  a 
Polish  prince  who  cut  her  off  with  a  shilling,  or  its 
Polish  equivalent,  because  she  chose  the  stage  as  a 
profession.  No  one  laughs  at  these  stories  more  heart- 
ily, or  sooner  corrects  them,  than  Mme.  Modjeska. 
Her  father,  Michael  Opid,  or  Opido,  was  born  among 
the  mountains,  but  came  to  live  at  Cracow,  in  Austrian 
Poland,  where  Helena,  or  Helcia  as  she  was  called  as 
a  child,  was  born.  Opido  was  a  man  of  fine  musical 
culture,  and  he  taught  music  in  Cracow,  where  his 
modest  home  was  the  rendezvous  of  all  musicians  and 
artists  who  came  to  the  old  capital.  Helena  was  the 
last  child  born  in  a  large  family,  and  her  father  gave 
her  a  Greek  name  on  account  of  her  small  Greek  head, 
which  pleased  his  artistic  sense.  Her  father  died 
when  she  was  quite  a  child. 

Mme.  Modjeska  took  from  her  mother  her  great 
activity  and  energy,  as  well  as  her  domestic  quality,  and 
from  her  father  the  profound  devotion  to  art,  and  the 
abundant  imagination,  as  well  as  the  innate  refine- 
ment, which  are  both  such  strong  characteristics  of  the 

195 


196  MME.   MODJESKA. 

Polish  mountaineers  of  the  Tatra  mountains.  The 
intense  nature  of  the  woman  showed  itself  in  the 
child.  She  was  intelligent,  imaginative,  and  indus- 
trious, and  while  she  enjoyed  above  all  things  hearing 
the  poems  of  Homer  read  aloud  she  was  interested 
in  domestic  pursuits,  and  she  attributes  her  physical 
strength  at  this  day  to  the  exercise  she  took  as  a  child, 
breaking  the  loaf  sugar  for  the  family  consumption,  and 
polishing  the  mahogany  furniture  until  it  reflected  her 
fair  young  face  in  its  blood-red  surface.  Helena  was 
seven  years  of  age  when  she  was  taken,  for  the  first 
time,  to  see  a  tragedy.  One  can  imagine  the  effect  of 
this  enchanting  moment  upon  a  susceptible  nature  such 
as  hers.  Her  excitement  was  so  intense  that  her 
mother  declared  that  it  should  be  many  a  long  year 
before  Helena  saw  the  inside  of  a  theatre  again, 
and  seven  years  passed  by  before  Helena  again  had 
the  pleasure  she  coveted.  In  the  meantime,  however, 
she  had  not  been  without  theatrical  con.solation.  The 
children  in  the  house  rigged  up  a  theatre  of  their  own  ; 
but  in  the  midst  of  their  play  they  were  recalled  to 
the  stern  reality  of  life  by  a  terrible  fire  which  swept 
through  Cracow,  destroyed  every  vestige  of  their 
home,  and  reduced  them  to  dire  poverty,  for  the 
houses  upon  whose  rental  they  depended  for  their  in- 
come went  with  the  rest.  Half  of  the  town  was  burned 
down.  After  sleeping  about  in  cellars,  clad  with  scanty 
raiment  and  fed  with  insufficient  food,  her  mother, 
Mme.  Benda,  at  last  found  a  house  that  they  might  live 
out  of  the  cold,  but  all  who  were  able  had  to  lend  a  help- 
ing hand,  for  there  was  a  large  family  to  clothe  and 
feed.  The  youngest  boy  went  to  work  with  a  mason 
and  finally  arose  to  the  dignity  of  a  professor  of  archi- 


MME.    MOD JE SKA.  197 

lecture.  The  oldest  brother,  Josef  Benda,  went  on  the 
stage  and  acted  with  success.  The  second  brother,  Felix 
Benda,  did  the  same  and  became  one  of  the  foremost 
of  Polish  actors.  A  third  son,  Simon,  went  to  study 
music  at  the  conservatory  in  Vienna  and  has  proved  a 
successful  professor  of  his  art.  Helena  envied  her  actor 
brothers  their  profession,  but  before  she  was  allowed 
to  lend  her  aid  toward  the  family  support  Mme.  Benda 
insisted  that  she  should  get  as  good  an  education  as 
their  circumstances  would  permit,  so  she  went  to  a 
convent  every  day.  She  learned  little  there  but  to 
recite,  the  good  nuns  remarking  her  talent  and  encour- 
aging it  by  their  words  of  praise.  All  Helena's 
thoughts  were  turned  towards  the  stage  and  her  read- 
ing, which  was  extensive,  was  in  that  direction.  She 
determined  that  she  would  be  an  actress  or — a  nun,  the 
latter,  however,  only  because  the  prospect  of  being 
the  former  was  so  remote.  The  play  that  had  the 
greatest  effect  upon  her  subsequent  career  was  *  Ham- 
let,' which  she  saw  acted  by  a  German  company.  Here- 
after Shakspere  was  the  god  of  her  idolatry,  and 
Schiller  and  Goethe,  whom  she  had  worshipped  up  to 
this  time,  were  cast  aside.  Through  the  intervention 
of  her  brother  Felix,  Helena  finally  succeeded  in 
her  effort  to  go  upon  the  stage.  It  was  such  a  long 
and  tedious  struggle  that  she  almost  gave  it  up  ;  for 
years  passed  by  without  any  success.  During  one  of 
these  years  her  mother  told  her  that  she  must  marry 
her  guardian,  a  friend  of  the  family,  and  a  man  much 
older  than  herself.  She  had  always  understood  that 
this  was  to  be  her  fate,  so  she  accepted  it  uncomplain- 
ingly.    The  name  of  this  man  was  Modrzejewski,  the 


198  MME.    MODJESKA. 

substitution  of  the  letter  A  makes  it  feminine,  and  Mod- 
rzejewska  is  really  the  spelling  of  the  name  we  have 
abbreviated  to  Modjeska.  They  were  married  quietly 
and  Mme.  Modjeska  had  one  son,  whose  wedding  a 
short  time  since  in  New  York  was  a  much  more 
auspicious  one  than  that  of  his  mother  to  Modrze- 
jewski.  After  her  marriage  Mme.  Modjeska  went  to 
live  at  Bochnia,  and  there  she  made  her  first  appear- 
ance on  the  stage  with  a  company  of  amateurs.  She 
at  once  attracted  attention,  and  her  husband,  seeing 
her  value  to  him  as  an  actress,  organized  a  small 
company  and  put  her  at  the  head  of  it.  This  little 
band  met  with  great  discouragements,  and  their  strug- 
gles and  hardships  were  enough  to  have  nipped  their 
ardor  in  the  bud,  but  there  were  good  actors  in  it, 
and  they  saw  signs  of  fame,  if  not  of  fortune,  before 
them,  and  they  toiled  on.  Two  of  Mme.  Modjeska's 
brothers  were  among  its  members,  and  a  younger 
sister  played  small  parts.  The  parts  that  Mme.  Mod- 
jeska was  called  upon  to  play  were  as  many  and  varied 
as  those  enumerated  by  Xki^  Player  King  va  'Hamlet'; 
but  she  was  happy  in  their  performance,  for  she  was 
following  the  profession  of  her  choice,  and  its  priva- 
tions and  hardships  seemed  as  nothing  to  her.  She 
even  had  the  discouragements  of  war  to  fight  against, 
for  the  whole  country  was  in  mourning,  and  the 
unhappy  Poles  did  not  feel  in  the  humor  for  enjoy- 
ing theatrical  performances.  In  1863,  her  husband 
accepted  for  her  a  proposal  to  play  German  tragedy 
in  Austrian  Bukozina,  but  her  patriotism  got  the 
better  of  her  ambition,  and  she  gave  up  the  idea  of 
playing  in  Germany  on  hearing  a  band  play  Polish 
national  airs  the  day  before  the  first  performance. 


MME.   MODJESKA.  199 

It  was  at  the  time  when  the  Polish  insurrection  broke 
out,  and  this  music  made  her  feel  as  if  deserting  the 
Polish  stage  for  the  German  at  such  a  moment,  would 
be  equal  to  betraying  the  national  cause. 

In  1865  Mme.  Modjeska  returned  to  Cracow,  where 
her  family  lived  and  where  her  brother,  Felix  Benda, 
was  acting.  She  got  an  engagement  there  to  play 
ingenue  parts,  but  the  stage  manager  of  the  thea- 
tre, an  old  experienced  actor,  promoted  Modjeska 
to  play  the  leading  parts.  This  artistic  director, 
named  I.  S.  lasinski,  was  to  Modjeska  what  Michonnet 
was  to  Adrieiine  Lecouveur — her  only  teacher  and 
best  friend  on  the  stage.  Her  progress  was  remark- 
able ;  in  a  few  months  she  was  recognized  as  the 
queen  of  the  Cracow  theatre,  and  her  fame  spread 
over  all  Poland.  While  there  she  received  from  Ger- 
many and  France  several  proposals  to  act.  In  1867 
M.  Dumas  fils,  hearing  such  wonderful  accounts  of  her 
performance,  invited  her  to  come  to  Paris  and  play 
Marguerite  Gautier  in  his  '  Dame  aux  Camelias,'  as 
well  as  the  leading  parts  in  his  other  plays.  She 
refused,  determined,  as  she  was  then,  to  remain  true 
to  the  national  stage.  She  probably  also  did  not  con- 
sider her  French  sufficiently  perfect  for  the  undertak- 
ing, and  furthermore  she  was  deterred  from  going  on 
the  French  stage  by  what  she  heard  of  stage  life  in 
Paris. 

Mme.  Modjeska's  whole  life  then  as  now  was  in  her 
art,  and  she  studied  and  worked  with  the  enthusiasm 
which  is  the  accompaniment  of  genius.  In  June, 
1866,  she  was  playing  in  Posen,  the  capital  of  Prussian 
Poland,  and  there  she  was  seen  for  the  first  time  by 
Charles  Bozenta  Chlapowski,  a  young  Polish  patriot 


20O  MME.  MODJESKA. 

and  journalist,  whose  family  had  won  distinction  in  its 
country's  cause,  and  who  were  people  of  high  social 
position.  Mr.  Chlapowski  fell  desperately  in  love 
with  Mme.  Modjeska  the  first  time  he  saw  her,  and 
she  with  him,  and  that  he  pressed  his  suit  with  energy 
and  determination  those  who  know  him  best  can  best 
understand.  Although  in  love  with  the  young  Pole, 
she  declined  his  proposal  of  marriage  at  first  and 
refused  to  consider  it,  until  his  family  not  only  gave 
their  consent  to  the  alliance,  but  until  they  formally 
asked  her  if  she  would  not  marry  Charles,  who  was 
breaking  his  young  heart  for  her.  She  consented, 
and  they  were  married,  and  a  happier  marriage  it 
would  be  hard  to  find. 

In  September,  1868,  on  the  day  of  her  marriage, 
Madame  Modjeska  went  to  Warsaw,  where  she  was 
invited  by  the  president  of  the  Imperial  Theatre  for 
a  .series  of  performances.  This  was  the  culminating 
point  in  her  dramatic  career,  for  the  Imperial  Theatre 
in  Warsaw  is  a  kind  of  Comedie-Franpaise,  and  in 
fact  the  leading  theatre  not  only  of  Poland  but  of 
.  Eastern  Europe.  Notwithstanding  many  obstacles 
put  in  her  way,  Modjeska  took  Warsaw  by  storm. 
Her  triumph  was  the  greatest  ever  known  in  the 
annals  of  the  theatre,  and  henceforth  she  was  ac- 
cepted as  the  foremost  representative  of  Polish  dra- 
matic art.  After  two  months  of  continual  ovations 
in  Warsaw  she  returned  to  Cracow,  where  her  hus- 
band was  then  the  chief  editor  of  a  daily  paper. 

At  the  end  of  1869  Mme.  Modjeska  and  her  hus- 
band left  Cracow  for  good,  and  established  them- 
selves in  Warsaw.  She  was  engaged  for  life  at  the 
Imperial   Theatre    as    the  leading    lady,    and    he  in 


MME.    MODJESKA.  201 

a  financial  institution,  as  his  political  precedents 
excluded  him  from  the  possibilities  of  continuing 
his  journalistic  career  under  the  Russian  govern- 
ment. They  remained  in  Warsaw  until  1876 — seven 
years.  It  was  during  that  time  that  Mme.  Modjeska 
advanced  most  in  her  art.  The  Warsaw  Theatre  is 
not  a  theatre  of  runs,  but  the  bills  change  continu- 
ally. So  Mme.  Modjeska  played,  besides  her  old 
parts,  seven  or  eight  new  ones  every  year.  It  has 
been  her  ambition  and  her  merit  to  introduce  on  the 
Warsaw  stage  the  standard  pieces  of  Shakspere, 
Goethe,  Schiller,  Moli^re,  and  in  the  same  time  to 
bring  on  new  plays  of  her  native  (Polish)  literature. 
She  was  the  soul  of  the  theatre  and  the  idol  of  the 
public,  but,  at  the  same  time,  the  object  of  a  great 
deal  of  envy.  She  had  to  sustain  a  continual  struggle 
with  the  Russian  Censorship,  which  claims  authority 
over  the  selection  of  plays,  and  which  always  wants 
to  exclude  all  plays  in  which  there  might  be  discov- 
ered any  allusion  to  freedom  and  independence. 

It  was  in  Warsaw  that  she  became  the  friend  of 
a  most  distinguished  woman,  the  wife  of  the  presi- 
dent. General  Muskanoff,  herself  best  known  in 
the  European  world  as  Mme.  Calergi,  who  had  a 
great  affection  for  Mme.  Modjeska  and  exerted  a 
great  influence  upon  her  artistic  development.  It 
might  be  said  that  as  lasenski  was  her  first  guide 
into  the  dramatic  realm,  Mme.  Calergi's  hand  led 
her  up  to  those  heights  of  art  where  poetry,  thea 
tre,  music,  and  the  plastic  arts  appear  all  as  one. 
There  is  no  question  that  continual  association  with 
the  highest  minds  of  her  country,  poets,  artists, 
political  and  society  people — as  well  as  the  foremost 


202  MME.    MODJESKA. 

foreign  artists  who  passed  through  Warsaw,  helped 
Mme.  Modjeska  a  great  deal,  and  that  the  seeds  of  such 
a  refining  process  did  not  fall  on  an  ungrateful  ground 
might  be  seen  in  the  results  which  she  attained. 
However,  such  a  life  of  continual  excitement,  pro- 
fessional work,  studies  in  all  directions,  and  the 
turmoil  of  society,  produced  necessarily  great  ex- 
haustion, and  Mme.  Modjeska  paid  for  all  mental 
gains  by  physical  decline  of  health  and  strength.  In 
1 870-1  she  was  prostrated  by  four  months  of  an  ill- 
ness, which  threatened  to  terminate  fatally.  This 
exhaustion  on  one  side,  and  on  the  other  the  worry 
over  several  unpleasant  attacks,  caused  by  the 
envy  of  her  colleagues  and  others, — worry  which, 
thanks  to  her  excitability,  troubled  her  more  than  it 
ought  to  have  done,  decided  her,  in  1876,  to  leave 
the  stage. 

The  death  of  her  favorite  brother  Felix  and  of 
Mme.  Calergi,  had  a  great  deal  to  do  with  this 
decision,  so  she  concluded  to  act  upon  her  doctor's 
advice  and  take  a  sea  voyage.  Her  eyes  were  turned 
toward  America,  the  land  of  the  free,  and  so,  with  her 
husband  and  a  party  of  friends,  she  sailed  for  the  Uni- 
ted States  in  1876.  After  visiting  the  Centennial  exhi- 
bition they  went  to  California,  where  they  thought  to 
found  a  Polish  community.  One  should  hear  the  his- 
tory of  this  experience  as  related  by  Mme.  Modjeska, 
to  appreciate  fully  its  many  phases.  They  bought 
land,  built  a  house,  purchased  cattle,  hens  and  chickens 
and  other  necessities,  and  then  swung  hammocks 
under  the  trees,  laid  in  a  stock  of  cigarettes  and  waited 
for  the  crops  to  grow  and  for  the  cattle  to  multiply. 
As  long  as  the  money  held  out  they  lived  a  delightful 


MME,^  MODJESKA.  203 

life.  Unfortunately  there  is  a  limit  to  money,  and 
before  very  long  it  was  all  gone  and  the  little 
colony  had  to  turn  to  and  work.  This  was  too  pro- 
saic entirely  for  some  of  its  members,  and  they  con- 
tinued to  swing  in  the  hammocks  and  smoke  cigarettes 
while  the  others  worked  and  waited  upon  them.  One 
of  the  hardest  workers  was  Mme.  Modjeska.  She 
not  only  cooked  and  scrubbed,  but  she  milked  the 
cows  and  made  the  butter,  her  husband  and  son  doing 
all  the  hard  work  of  the  farm  while  their  companions 
looked  on  and  chaffed  and  sneered  by  turns.  Even 
with  the  strictest  economy  they  could  not  live,  and 
Mme.  Modjeska  determined  to  learn  English  and  act  at 
a  San  Francisco  theatre.  She  went  to  San  Francisco, 
and  in  six  months  she  spoke  the  English  language  well 
enough  to  act  in  it.  The  story  of  her  first  appearance 
on  the  English  speaking  stage  has  been  often  told. 
The  late  John  McCuUough  gave  her  an  opportunity 
at  the  California  Theatre.  Her  first  appearance  there, 
in  1877,  as  in  Warsaw,  nine  years  before,  was  as 
Adrienne  Lecouvreur.  Her  success  was  immediate. 
Henry  Sargent,  the  manager,  saw  her  and  made  a 
two  years'  contract  with  her,  and  since  that  time 
Mme.  Modjeska  has  been  claimed  as  an  American 
actress.  After  her  triumphs  in  the  United  States, 
Mme.  Modjeska  returned  to  Poland,  where  she  was 
received  with  the  characteristic  enthusiasm  of  her 
countrymen.  They  forgave  her  for  having  left  them 
in  their  joy  at  her  return.  The  United  States  is, 
however,  the  country  of  Mme.  Modjeska's  adoption, 
and  her  husband  and  son  are  both  naturalized  citi- 
zens of  the  republic.  Mr.  Chlapowski  has  bought  a 
ranch  in  the  far  west,  and  her  son  Ralph  is  married 


a04  MME.   MODJESKA. 

and  settled  in  Omaha,  where  he  follows  the  profes- 
sion of  a  civil-engineer. 

Of  Mme.  Modjeska's  acting  I  may  say  at  once 
that  I  place  it  above  that  of  any  of  her  contempor- 
aries in  the  same  line,  whom  I  have  seen.  It  may 
not  reach  the  tragic  height  of  some,  nor  the  comic 
depths  of  others,  but  there  is  an  evenness  in  her 
performance  that  is  very  satisfying.  Her  art  is  the 
art  of  genius — genius  that  has  not  shirked  work. 
It  is  a  diamond  that  its  owner  has  polished  with 
infinite  care,  and  it  sparkles  as  brilliantly  in  the  lurid 
light  of  tragedy  as  in  the  rainbow  light  of  comedy. 
Intellectual,  womanly,  sympathetic — no  wonder  that 
Mme.  Modjeska  has  as  many  admirers  in  America  as 
in  her  native  country,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that 
she  is  handicapped  with  a  language  not  her  own.  Her 
art  is  so  great,  her  charm  .so  subtle,  that  we  find 
nothing  to  criticise. 

Jeannette  Leonard  Gilder. 


Madame  Modjeska's  first  appearance  as  an  English 
speaking  actress,  which  took  place  in  San  Francisco, 
toward  the  close  of  1877,  was  a  remarkable  event  an'd 
one  which  made  a  deep  impression  on  those  who 
assisted  at  the  occasion.  It  was  memorable  in  itself, 
considered  wholly  apart  from  the  results  to  which  it 
led  ;  it  was  in  the  nature  of  a  surprise,  so  little  was 
expected  and  so  much  was  given. 

We  had  had  no  dearth  of  ambitious  foreign  stars 
on  the  San  Francisco  boards,  and  by  consequence,  the 
title  of  Countess,  which  was  used  to  give  eclat  to 
Modjeska's  name  on  the  bills,  impressed  us  but  little. 
Why,  it  was  but  shortly  before  that  we  had  been  called 


MME.    mod; E SKA.  205 

on  to  pronounce  judgment  upon  a  princess — the 
Princess  Racovitza,  whose  name  scandal  associated 
with  the  famous  duel  in  which  the  socialist  Lasalle 
lost  his  life — and  our  judgment,  save  as  to  the  physi- 
cal charms  of  the  lady,  had  been  far  from  favorable. 
I  do  not  think  I  have  heard  anything  of  La  Racovitza 
since.  But  Modjeska,  who  has  not  heard  of  her,  and 
who  can  hear  of  her  too  often  ? 

Mr.  Barton  Hill  was  at  that  time  manager  of  the 
California  Theatre,  acting  for  John  McCullough,  then 
absent  on  a  starring  tour  in  the  Eastern  States.  We 
saw  a  very  modest  number  of  posters  distributed  about 
the  city  announcing  that  on  such  a  date  "  Helena 
Modjeska,  Countess  Bozenta,"  would  make  her  bow 
as  Adrienne  Lecouvreiir,  Hill  could  add  little  to  the 
information  afforded  by  the  posters.  She  was  a  Polish 
countess  and  a  distinguished  European  artist ;  we 
had  heard  all  that  before,  and  we  thought  of  the 
Princess  Racovitza  and  politely  changed  the  subject. 

It  was  emphatically  an  off  week  at  the  California 
Theatre,  sandwiched  in  between  the  engagement  of — I 
have  forgotten  what  star,  and  Rose  Eytinge.  There 
was  no  interest  excited  by  the  Modjeska  engagement;  it 
attracted  no  attention  whatever.  Toward  nine  o'clock 
I  strolled  down  to  the  California  with  a  few  friends  — 
like  myself,  critics  of  the  San  Francisco  press  and 
brought  thither  rather  by  a  sense  of  duty  than  by  any 
anticipation  of  pleasure.  The  curtain  fell  on  the  first 
act  just  as  we  entered.  There  was  not  a  hand.  A 
colder,  more  unsympathetic  audience  I  have  never 
seen.  To  be  sure  there  was  very  little  of  it  and  its 
members  were  scattered  through  the  large  auditorium 
like  the   plums  in  a  charity  pudding — within  hailing 


2o6  MME.    MODJESKA. 

distance  of  each  other.  Modjeska,  of  course,  had  not 
yet  appeared  ;  Adrienne  is  not  seen  in  the  first  act. 
She  appears,  however,  early  in  the  second,  and  a  few 
minutes  later  a  new  star — as  far  as  the  English  speak- 
ing stage  is  concerned — burst  on  the  theatrical  firma- 
ment. 

She  had  a  reception,  such  as  it  was.  The  usher- 
claque  did  its  duty,  and  there  was  a  grace  in  acknowl- 
edgment of  the  perfunctory  applause  which  insensibly 
interested  the  audience.  Then  the  play  proceeded.  As 
the  first  lines  fell  from  her  lips,  tinged  as  they  were  by 
a  strangely-marked  foreign  accent,  the  knowing  ones 
shook  their  heads.  But  not  for  long.  We  soon  saw 
that  no  ordinary  artist  was  before  us.  We  recognized 
and  bowed  to  the  charm  that  has  swayed  so  many 
thousands  since.  The  diminutive  audience  felt  the 
spell,  and  a  warm  round  of  applause  as  the  curtain 
fell  attested  the  interest  that  the  fair  foreigner  had 
awakened. 

To  be  brief,  each  succeeding  act  was  a  culminating 
triumph,  and  I  could  not  have  believed  that  so  small 
an  audience  could  have  manifested  so  great  a  volume 
of  enthusiasm.  And  when  the  curtain  fell  for  the  last 
time  the  people  remained  in  their  seats — a  rare  com- 
pliment, indeed,  for  an  American  audience  to  pay — 
and  summoned  their  new  favorite  again  and  again  to 
receive  their  thanks  and  approval.  The  future  of 
Modjeska  on  the  Anglo-Saxon  stage  was  assured. 

Henry  J.  Sargent,  at  that  time  at  San  Francisco  in 
charge  of*  Heller,  the  magician,  was  one  of  those  who 
came,  saw,  and  was  conquered  that  night,  and  his 
visit  to  the  theatre  resulted  that  same  week  in  a 
contract   under  which  Modjeska   was   introduced   a 


MME.   MODJESKA.  207 

little  later  to  eastern  audiences — we  all  know  with 
what  result. 

The  California  Theatre  was  crowded  nightly  the  re- 
mainder of  the  engagement.  The  press,  perhaps  a  little 
carried  away  by  the  contagious  enthusiasm,  could  not 
find  adjectives  superlative  enough  to  praise  the  new 
star.  Miss  Eytinge  sacrificed  the  first  week  of  her 
engagement  that  that  of  Modjeska  might  be  prolonged 
beyond  its  original  modest  limits  ;  and  finally  the  new 
foreign  star,  no  longer  a  stranger,  departed  for  New 
York  amidst  the  brightest  auguries,  which  have  been 
most  happily  fulfilled. 

Geo.  H.  Jessop,  in  a  private  letter  to  the  Editors  of 
this  book. 

"  Thus  Fate  knocks  at  the  door,"  said  Beethoven 
of  the  opening  chords  of  the  Fifth  Symphony.  It  is 
the  imminence  of  Fate  that  gives  solemnity  to  Mod- 
jeska's  Camille.  In  the  hands  of  such  an  actor  the 
modern  French  play  has  the  grace,  the  power,  the 
impression  of  one  of  the  old  Greek  tragedies. 

R.  W.  Gilder,  in  Scribners  Monthly,  May,  1878. 

Her  Viola,  a  part  to  which  she  is  yet  new,  promises 
to  become  a  fit  companion  picture  to  her  Rosalind. 
The  distinction  between  the  two  characters  is  cleverly 
marked,  and  will,  of  course,  grow  more  clear  with 
future  study  and  rehearsal.  The  sentimental  side  of 
Viola  is  projected  into  strong  relief,  and  is  treated 
with  exquisite  tenderness  and  grace.  The  key-note 
of  the  impersonation  is  given  at  the  first  entrance  from 
the  boat.  At  Booth's  Theatre,  this  coast  scene  was  a 
marvel  of  shabbiness  and  grotesque  unfitness  ;  yet  the 
actress,  by  her  power  of  pantomime,  created  a  vivid 


2o8  MME.   MODJESKA. 

impression  of  cold  and  storm,  of  suffering,  fatigue,  and 
fear.  The  natural  timidity  of  woman  was  substituted 
for  the  high  courage  of  Rosalind,  and  this  phase  of 
the  character  was  emphasized  throughout  the  play, 
and  was  made  manifest  even  in  the  love  scenes  with 
Olivia^  which  were  treated  most  picturesquely,  in 
varying  moods  of  bewilderment,  incredulity,  and  rail- 
lery, but  with  a  constant  suggestion  of  the  pain  inflict- 
ed for  love's  sake  by  a  loving  heart  upon  itself.  The 
performance,  as  has  been  intimated,  is  not  yet  a  fin- 
ished work.  There  are  rough  spots  in  it  here  and 
there,  and  there  are  traces  of  labor  and  uncertainty 
which  only  time  will  remove.  But  these  flaws  are  only 
discernible  at  intervals,  and  never  at  important  crises. 
The  versatility  of  the  actress  is  displayed  in  the  con- 
trast between  the  delicate  pathos  and  unsurpassable 
grace  of  the  famous  scene  between  Viola  and  Orsino 
and  the  admirable  humor  of  the  duel  scene  with  Sir 
Andrew,  which  excites  the  heartiest  merriment  without 
recourse  to  any  methods  except  those  which  belong 
legitimately  to  comedy.  These  scenes  contain  the 
promise  of  the  completed  work. 

J.  Ranken  Towse,  in  the  Century,  November,  1883 

The  return  of  Mme.  Modjeska  is  a  welcome  event. 
This  distinguished  actress  came  forth  last  evening  at 
the  Star  Theatre,  in  the  character  of  Camille,  and  she 
was  welcomed  with  aftectionate  interest  by  a  numerous 
and  sympathetic  audience.  Upon  the  sad  and  deplo- 
rable subject  of  this  play  there  would  seem  to  be  no 
especial  need  for  particular  reflection.  The  topic  as 
originally  presented  to  the  dramatic  world  was  openly 
offensive ;  but  in  the  lapse  of  years  it  has  been  sub- 


MME.    MODJESKA.  209 

jected  to  such  ingenious  intellectual  manipulation  that 
at  last  its  essential  character  seems  to  have  undergone 
a  total  change.  This  sorrowful  heroine,  at  any  rate,  as 
presented  by  Mme.  Modjeska  is  a  good  woman — in 
her  essential  innate  fibre — whom  malignant  fate  and 
wayward  impulse  have  precipitated  into  a  sinful  life, 
and  who  is  shown  as  vainly  but  pathetically  striving, 
under  the  influence  of  a  true  love,  to  free  herself  from 
the  inexorable  consequences  of  her  sin.  When  consid- 
ered from  this  point  of  view  the  spectacle  that  is  pre- 
sented allures  the  attention  of  thoughtful  observers  to 
that  great  and  sacred  mystery,  a  woman's  heart  suffer- 
ing under  the  blight  of  thwarted  and  baffled  affection. 
In  other  words,  the  woman  presented  by  Mme.  Mod- 
jeska is  not  a  courtesan  struggling  to  reinstate  herself 
in  a  domestic  position  and  giving  forth  sonorous  plat- 
itudes about  the  "  charmed  circle  of  Society."  This 
actress  from  the  first  of  her  career  upon  the  American 
stage  has  been  remarkable  for  her  power  to  express 
the  passionate  rapture  with  which  true  love  looks 
upon  the  object  of  its  adoration.  With  this  power 
her  performance,  last  night,  was  vital  and  beautiful. 
The  outburst  of  despair,  in  the  agonizing  scene  of  the 
third  act — when  the  tortured  Camille,  driven  from  her 
last  refuge,  cries  out  ''  Why  do  I  live  ?  " — remains,  as 
it  has  ever  been,  one  of  the  finest  strokes  of  dramatic 
art  that  have  been  accomplished  within  the  memory  of 
the  present  generation.  Mme.  Modjeska,  like  Sarah 
Bernhardt,  portrays  the  death  of  Camille  without  the 
taint  of  physical  decay,  and  without  the  least  associa- 
tion of  the  sick-room  and  the  medicine-chest. 

William  Winter,  in  the  New  York  Tribune^  Janu- 
ary 23,  1886. 


2IO  ■  MME.   MODJESKA. 

Madame  Modjeska  proposed  to  give  Shakspere 
translated  from  the  original  English  into  good  Polish. 
The  President  agreed  to  this  innovation,  and  Madame 
Modjeska  arranged  to  play  Juliet  on  her  first  benefit 
night.  When  she  went  to  the  assistant  manager  about 
it,  he  exclaimed  :  "  Oh,  my  dear  madame,  it  is  impos- 
sible ;  it  will  not  succeed.  Plays  that  are  adapted  from 
operas  never  answer,  I  assure  you  !  " 

Mabel  Collins  :  The  *  Story  of  Helena  Modjeska,' 
/.  132. 

Deft  hands  called  Chopin's  music  from  the  keys. 
Silent  she  sat,  her  slender  figure's  poise 
Flower-like  and  fine  and  full  of  lofty  ease  ; 
She  heard  her  Poland's  most  consummate  voice 
From  power  to  pathos  falter,  sink  and  change  ; 
The  music  of  her  land,  the  wond'rous,  high, 
Utmost  expression  of  its  genius  strange, — 
Incarnate  sadness  breathed  in  melody. 
Silent  and  thrilled  she  sat,  her  lovely  face 
Flushing  and  paling  like  a  delicate  rose 
Shaken  by  summer  winds  from  its  repose 
Softly  this  way  and  that,  with  tender  grace. 
Now  touched  by  sun,  now  into  shadow  turned, — 
While  bright  with  kindred  fire  her  deep  eyes  burned  ! 
Celia  Thaxter,  in  Scribner's  Monthly,  May,  1878. 


MISS  CLARA  MORRIS. 


211 


Touched  by  the  fervor  of  her  art, 

No  flaws  to-night  discover  I 
Her  judge  shall  be  the  people's  heart, 

This  western  world  her  lover. 
The  secret  given  to  her  alone 

No  frigid  schoolman  taught  her  : — 
Once  more  returning,  dearer  grown, 

We  greet  thee,  Passion's  daughter  .' 

Edmund  Clarence  Stedman, 


212 


MISS  CLARA  MORRIS. 


Though  I  think  Clara  Morris'scareer  virtually  dates 
from  that  September  [13th]  evening  in  1870  when, 
an  utterly  unknown  actress  from  "somewhere  out 
West,"  she  took  the  New  York  public  by  storm  as  the 
heroine  of  Wilkie  CoUins's  *  Man  and  Wife,'  it  is, 
nevertheless,  a  fact  that  she  had  been  for  some  years 
a  recognized  Leading  Woman  in  such  cities  as 
Cleveland,  Louisville,  and  Cincinnati,  and  had  pre- 
viously pla3'ed  every  line  of  business,  from  smart 
soubrettes  to  tragedy  queens,  as  occasion  demanded. 
Reared  in  the  hard  school  of  a  western  theatre  (the 
house  managed  by  Mr.  John  EUsler  in  Cleveland), 
Miss  Morris,  like  Claude  Melnotte,  "  rose  from  the 
ranks; "  only  the  battalion  where  she  graduated  was  the 
corps  du  ballet,  which  consisted  of  a  limited  number 
of  western  maidens,  addicted  to  giggling,  and  to  un- 
limited indulgence  in  chewing  gum — a  delicacy  which 
figures  largely  in  the  now  celebrated  actress's  viva- 
cious imitations  of  herself  as  a  newly-fledged  cory- 
phei  in  crudely  colored  tights  and  shoes  much  too 
big  for  her,  shouldering  a  spear  and,  painfully 
rigid,  keeping  time  to  the  inspiring  strains  of  the  'Ama- 
zon's March.'  Miss  Morris's  fund  of  personal  anecdote 
embraces,  likewise,  a  graphic  description  of  her  subse- 
quent .appearance  as   the    Queen  Mother  to   Edwin 

213 


214  MISS  CLARA    MORRIS. 

Booth's  Hamlet,  at  an  emergency,  and  of  her  bud- 
ding efforts  during  the  engagements  of  such  stars 
as  Joseph  Jefferson,  Joseph  Proctor  ( '  Nick  of  the 
Woods  ')  and  Mr.  Couldock,  who  was  at  that  period 
accustomed  to  appear  in  the  'Willow  Copse.'  Now 
and  then  she  went  "  barn-storming,"  and  her  vaga- 
bondage  furnishes  material  for  many  an  anecdote  to 
which  she  gives  the  spice  of  her  essentially  individ- 
ual style.  Her  description  of  this  nomadic  existence 
in  ''  one-night  towns,"  and  of  the  types  of  charac- 
ter, from  a  gormandizing  old  woman  to  a  shiftless 
comedian,  she  was  associated  with  in  the  company, 
might  have  enlisted  the  pencil  of  a  Hogarth,  or  the 
pen  of  a  George  Sand.  The  poor  young  girl,  always 
an  invalid,  endowed  with  a  passionate  love  of  nature, 
a  k6en  appreciation  of  the  beautiful,  a  sense  of  the 
ridiculous  rarely  united  to  such  a  sensitive  organ- 
ization, devoured  every  romance  that  she  could  lay 
her  hands  upon,  made  an  idol  of  Charles  Dickens, 
and  lived  in  daily  companionship  with  the  creations 
of  his  fancy.  A  poor  untutored  young  girl,  growing 
up  like  a  neglected  weed,  a  strange  mixture  of  senti- 
ment and  humor  ;  such  was  Clara  Morris  in  her 
teens. 

Though  her  early  days  are  associated  with  Cleve- 
land, the  town  in  which  she  made  her  d^but,  she 
was  born  in  Ontario,  Canada.  The  fact  that  she  came 
into  the  world  in  the  Queen's  Dominions  does  not 
make  her  any  the  less,  in  the  more  restricted  sense  of 
the  word,  an  American  actress.  She  is  American  to 
the  finger-tips  and,  in  spite  of  years  of  metropol- 
itan life,  retains  the  refreshing  simplicity  of  a  Western 
woman.     Should  she  attempt  to  be  anything  else  she 


MISS  CLARA   MORRIS.  2 15 

would  half  destroy  an  interesting  individuality.  It  is, 
however,  scarcely  likely  that  she  will  ever  yield  to  the 
pernicious  influence  of  a  fashion  of  the  hour,  since 
one  of  Miss  Morris's  chief  merits  as  a  woman  is  that 
she  is  not  ashamed  of  her  humble  origin  and  formerly 
limited  education  ;  and  it  is  her  crowning  virtue  that 
she  has  never  failed  practically  to  remember  the 
benefactors  of  her  youthful  days.  Visitors  to  her 
home  on  the  Hudson  River,  "  The  Pines,"  at  River- 
dale,  have  often  met  a  pleasant-mannered,  well-spoken 
woman  of  middle  age,  attired  in  deep  mourning,  who 
is  in  the  habit  of  paying  periodical  visits  to  her  former 
protegee,  who  calls  her  by  a  familiar  household  name, 
and  lavishes  every  attention  upon  her.  **  When  I 
was  a  little  girl,  a  kid,  she  always  used  to  give  us 
a  home  when  mamma  was  out  of  work  ;  we  used  to 
descend  upon  her,  bag  and  baggage,  at  intervals,  and 
I  can  see  mamma  dragging  me  and  my  bundle  along 
as  we  came  into 's  front  yard.  I  was  a  sensi- 
tive child,  and  always  uncertain  of  my  reception, 
though  I  had  no  reason  to  be,  for  we  always  met  with  a 
warm  welcome."  Clara  Morris  had  attained  compara- 
tive independence,  however,  long  before  she  faced  a 
New  York  audience,  and  not  a  few  of  the  stars  with 
whom  she  had  acted  brought  word  of  her  achievements 
to  the  metropolis.  "  There  is  a  woman  in  Cleveland," 
said  McKee  Rankin  to  D.  H.  Harkins,  on  the  eve  of 
the  production  of  the  drama  of  *  Foul  Play  '  at  a 
house  then  k  nown  as  the  Broadway  Theatre  ;  **  she's 
the  greatest  actress  in  this  country  ;  telegraph  for  her  ; 
she  is  sure  to  make  a  hit."  The  dispatch  was  sent, 
but  an  answer  came  back  that  it  was  impossible  for 
Miss  Morris  to   accept,  as  she    had    already    signed 


2l6  MISS  CLARA    MORRIS. 

for  Cincinnati.  Finally,  however,  Mr.  Augustin  Daly, 
who  was  then  managing  the  theatre  first  known 
as  the  Fifth  Avenue,  acted  on  a  suggestion  of  Mr. 
James  Lewis's  and  engaged  Clara  Morris,  not  as 
leading  lady,  but  to  play  such  characters  as  Mrs. 
Glenarm  in  *  Man  and  Wife,'  then  on  the  eve  of  pro- 
duction. Chance  favored  Miss  Morris,  however ; 
Miss  Agnes  Ethel,  then  Mr.  Daly's  representative 
of  sentimental  heroines,  declined  to  appear  as  Anne 
Sylvester,  and  Miss  lone  Burke,  who  was  the  next 
actress  in  rank,  had  gone  for  her  holiday  and  omitted 
to  leave  her  address.  In  this  emergency,  Mr.  Daly 
concluded  to  confide  the  character  to  '"'the  raw  West- 
ern recruit,"  whose  physiognomy  and  bearing  had 
impressed  him  as  significant  of  force  of  character,  and 
to  cast  Miss  Linda  Dietz  for  Mrs.  Glenarm.  Accus- 
tomed to  quick  study,  Clara  Morris  did  not  delay  the 
production  an  hour  ;  she  was  in  an  agony  of  nervous 
apprehension,  but  steeled  herself  for  an  occasion 
which  she  felt  would  be  momentous.  Such  indeed  it 
proved,  for  her  success  established  her  in  the  historic 
"one  bound"  as  leading  lady  of  a  metropolitan 
theatre  :  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  the  critics  and  the 
public  found  her  "  crude  "  and  full  of  "  provincial- 
isms," they  were  quick  to  acknowledge  her  rare  gifts 
of  temperament.  Little  by  little  this  complaint  was 
modified  as  she  appeared  in  a  round  of  characters 
with  a  success  that  fluctuated  with  her  opportunities 
and  the  character  of  the  parts  assigned  her.  The 
fiery,  impassioned  nature  of  the  heroine  of  '  Jezebel ' 
[March  28,  1871]  found  a  strong  exposition  ;  and,  if 
she  lacked  something  of  the  elegance,  she  had  all  the 
gift  of  tears,  for  Fanny  in  Mr.  Daly's  popular  play  of 


MISS  CLARA   MORRIS.  ^\^ 

'Divorce'  [Sept.  5,  1871].  In  certain  old  comedies 
she  was  less  happy,  but  Bronson  Howard's  play  of 
'Diamonds'  [Sept.  3,  1872]  was  remarkable  not  only 
as  the  medium  for  Miss  Sara  Jewett's  first  appearance 
on  the  stage  in  the  character  of  the  sentimental  heroine, 
but  for  the  fact  that  Clara  Morris  united  with  Miss 
Fanny  Davenport  in  playing  a  brace  of  comedy  romps, 
madcap  girls  bent  on  frolic.  It  is  a  strange  fact  that 
Miss  Morris,  whose  disposition  off  the  stage  would 
seem  to  favor  fun  and  mirth,  excels  before  the  foot- 
lights in  depicting  the  heroines  of  domestic  tragedy. 

It  was  at  the  old  Fifth  Avenue  Theatre  that  Clara 
Morris  made  her  first  great  hit  in  a  part  which  remains 
one  of  her  greatest  assumptions,  Cora  in  '  L' Article 
47  '  [April  2,  1872].  The  impression  which  she 
produced  in  the  mad  scene  on  the  first  night  is  a 
memorable  one.  The  actress  had  made  a  study  of 
insanity  both  in  asylums  and  medical  books.  She 
had  practised  falls  such  as  had  never  been  accom- 
plished before,  and  she  had  thoroughly  thought  out 
what  she  should  do  during  a  long  period  while  she 
was  required  to  occupy  the  stage  with  very  little  to 
say  but  a  great  deal  to  suggest.  She  has  since  mar- 
vellously elaborated  this  episode,  but  the  remembrance 
of  her  acting  on  that  first  night  years  ago,  acting  that 
made  the  blood  run  cold,  remains  uneffaced.  She 
was  dressed  in  a  Spanish-looking  gown  of  yellow 
satin,  with  red  roses  at  the  corsage,  and  had  put  on 
jet  black  tresses  over  her  brown  hair  ;  a  black  lace 
veil  concealed  the  wound  supposed  to  have  been  in- 
flicted on  Coras  face  by  Georges  Duhamel,  her  lover. 
She  paced  the  floor  like  a  caged  animal,  then  sat  and 
chattered  half-incoherent  sentences.      The  approach 


2l8  Af/sS  CLARA    MORRIS. 

of  delirious  madness  was  indicated  with  exceeding 
subtlety,  and  the  scream  and  final  fall  electrified  the 
house.  When  Augustin  Daly,  who  had  watched  her 
from  the  wings,  the  most  nervous  of  managers,  his 
face  colorless,  his  coat  collar  turned  up,  rushed  for- 
ward to  raise  her  to  her  fee  t  and  overwhelm  her  with 
praises,  he  found  her  half-insensible,  and  discovered 
that  she  had  flung  herself  with  such  abandon  to  the 
ground  that  her  bracelets  had  cut  into  her  wrists  and 
made  them  bleed.  Her  Cora  was  the  sensation  of  the 
day,  and  she  was  acknowledged  a  great  actress  of  the 
school  termed  emotional.  There  was,  however,  a 
hue  and  cry  raised  over  "  the  adulterous  drama  from 
the  French,"  and  it  was  asserted  in  some  quarters 
that  it  was  strange  and  regrettable,  not  that  she  did 
Cora  so  well,  but  that  she  should  do  it  at  all. 

No  such  objection  could  be  made,  however,  to  her 
Alixe  [Jan.  21,  1873],  following  an  interim  in 
which  her  talents  were  devoted  to  the  portrayal  of  the 
— to  her — ungrateful  character  of  Magdalen  in  '  False 
Shame  ;  or  New  Year's  Eve  '  [Dec.  21,  1872],  the  run 
of  which  was  interrupted  by  the  destruction  of  the 
Fifth  Avenue  Theatre  by  fire,  on  New  Year's  Day, 
1873.  Mr,  Daly  reassembled  his  company  at  the 
Broadway  Theatre  (opposite  the  New  York  Hotel,  on 
the  site  of  what  was  afterward  Messrs.  Harrigan  & 
Hart's  Theatre  Comique),  and  preceded  the  first 
performance  of  *  Alixe  '  by  a  prologue  prepared  for 
the  occasion  by  the  late  John  Brougham.  As  each 
favorite  advanced  to  the  footlights  to  speak  his  or 
her  share  the  audience  gave  cordial  greeting ;  but 
when  Clara  Morris,  very  simply  dressed,  stepped  for- 
ward, the  house  came  down.     She  was,  indeed,  the 


MISS  CLARA   MORRIS.  219 

particular  star  of  a  famous  company,  and  there  was 
but  little  exaggeration  in  the  statement,  made  not 
long  after,  that  she  held  the  heart  of  the  New  York 
public  in  her  hand.  On  the  same  night  her  assump- 
tion of  the  simple  trusting  girl,  AHxe,  with  the  rose 
at  her  throat,  in  Mr.  Daly's  adaptation  of  the '  Comtesse 
de  Somerive,'  created  a  furore,  and,  as  the  character 
was  unfolded  and  its  impassioned  depths  of  jealousy 
and  despair  were  touched,  the  whole  audience  was  in 
tears  and  raptures.  The  next  day's  newspapers  com- 
plimented the  actress  on  her  triumph  as  so  pure  a 
personage.  While  at  this  theatre  Clara  Morris  made 
a  powerful  impression  in  an  unhealthy  drama  known 
as  *  Madelein  Morel'  [May  20,  1873].  The  curse 
scene,  wherein  a  nun  who  is  pictured  as  a  repentant 
Magdalen,  calls  down  the  wrath  of  heaven  upon  her 
false  lover,  was  treated  with  her  wonted  magnetism. 
Miss  Morris  had  now  virtually  become  a  star,  and 
few  persons  were  surprised  to  hear  that  she  had 
severed  her  connection  with  Mr.  Daly's  company  dur- 
ing a  tour  of  the  country,  or  to  see  her  announced  to 
play  a  special  engagement  at  the  Union  Square 
Theatre,  where,  in  November  [17th,  1873],  she  came 
forward  as  the  heroine  of  Mr.  W.  S.  Gilbert's  fairy 
comedy  of  the  '  Wicked  World.'  Her  reception  was 
most  enthusiastic,  but  the  play  did  not  hold  the 
boards  for  any  length  of  time,  and  Miss  Morris  de- 
parted on  her  first  starring  tour.  She  returned,  how- 
ever, to  this  house  in  the  spring,  when  the  long  run  of 
*  Led  Astray  '  was  succeeded  by  an  engagement  dur- 
ing which  she  appeared  with  extraordinary  success  as 
Camille  [May  14,  1874],  a  part  which  she  had  only 
acted  on  one  occasion  before  [March  16,  1874],  i.  e., 


2  20  MISS  CLARA    MORRIS. 

at  a  benefit  performance  given  at  the  house  in  Four- 
teenth Street. 

The  Union  Square  Theatre  has  since  proved  a  con- 
sistently lucky  house  for  her.  There  it  was  [Nov.  20, 
1876J  that  she  embarked  upon  an  assumption  which 
she  subsequently  chose  for  her  introduction  to  the 
Boston  public,  and  which  she  would  probably  always 
select  for  a  first  appearance  in  any  important  town, 
Miss  Multon  in  the  drama  of  that  name,  adapted  from 
the  French.  It  was  in  this  character  that  she'  fully 
re-established  her  metropolitan  prestige  after  quasi- 
failures  at  other  houses  than  at  the  Union  Square 
Theatre,  viz.,  Booth's  Theatre,  where  she  had  the 
unhappy  idea  of  essaying  Evadne  [May  10,  1875], 
Lady  MacbetJi  [May  15,  1875],  and  Jarie  Shore  [May 
22],  and  Daly's  New  Fifth  Avenue  Theatre,  where  she 
appeared  as  Leah  the  Forsaken  [Nov.  22,  1875]  in  the 
drama  associated  with  the  name  of  Miss  Bateman. 
Indeed,  Miss  Morris's  repeated  reappearances  under 
Mr.  Daly's  management  have  not  been  fortunate,  for 
Denise  was  no  more  of  a  triumph,  save  for  the  act- 
ress's power  of  making  an  essentially  French  situ- 
ation almost  acceptable,  than  was  the  new  Leah. 
At  various  periods  Miss  Morris  has  played  engage- 
ments at  most  of  the  leading  New  York  theatres,  yet 
her  name  will  always  be  chiefly  associated  with  Mr. 
Daly's  old  Fifth  Avenue  Theatre  in  Twenty-Fourth 
Street,  and  with  the  Union  Square  Theatre,  where, 
besides  Miss  Multon  and  Camille,  she  re-created  for 
New  York  play-goers  the  heroine  of  Messrs.  Magnus 
and  Lancaster's  play  of  '  Conscience  '  [March,  1881] 
and  Mercy  Merrick  in  the  *  New  Magdalen  '  [Janu- 
ary, 1882].     The  only  other  part  with  which  she  has 


MISS  CLARA    MORRIS.  221 

succeeded  in  identifying  herself  is  Jane  Eyre  [Febru- 
ary, II,  1878],  in  passages  of  which  she  is  extremely 
fine,  notably  the  young  girl's  impassioned  outburst  in 
the  prologue.  Though  for  some  years  Clara  Morris 
was  little  known,  save  as  a  great  name,  outside  of  a 
few  citie^,  she  is  now  a  familiar  figure  to  the  audi- 
ences of  San  Francisco  and  New  Orleans,  and  has 
journeyed  from  Wisconsin  to  Texas,  from  Maine  to 
the  Golden  Gate. 

Great  and  deserved  as  is  her  reputation,  she  is  no 
more  exempt  than  are  those  two  other  representative 
actresses,  Sarah  Bernhardt  in  Paris  and  Mrs.  Kendal 
in  London — one  so  essentially  French,  the  other  so 
radically  English,  from  belittling  criticism  :  like  the 
lamented  Aimee  Desclee,  who,  too,  was  a  high  priestess 
of  nature  in  art,  Clara  Morris's  fame,  after  death,  will 
doubless  transcend  her  reputation  with  her  own  coun- 
try people  while  living.  It  will  then  be  realized  with 
what  inimitable  truth  and  power  she  has  pictured 
for  us  certain  phases  of  human  nature,  and  what 
unequalled  feeling  and  passion  she  has  brought  to 
bear  upon  the  characters  into  which  she  breathes  the 
breath  of  life.  It  is  a  sure  proof  of  an  actress's 
supremacy  when  she  succeeds  in  making  certain 
personages  so  peculiarly  her  own  that  the  spectator 
would  not  care  to  see  them  essayed  by  any  one  else  ; 
who,  for  instance,  would  accept  another  Miss  Mulfon^ 
'another  Cora,  another  Alixe,  or,  in  certain  scenes,  such 
aS  the  fourth  act,  even  another  Camille?  During, 
the  period  of  Clara  Morris's  earlier  triumphs  she 
unknowingly  founded  a  school  yclept  "  the  emo- 
tional "  ;  the  sincere  flattery  of  the  budding  debu- 
tantes extended  so  far  as  to  excite  the  risibilities  of 


22  2  MISS  CLARA   MORRIS. 

audiences  on  more  than  one  occasion.  The  model's 
faults  were  copied  as  though  they  had  been  virtues, 
and  because  Clara  Morris  said  "  Parus "  the  newly- 
fledged  "  emotionals  "  said  "  Parus  "  too,  forgetting 
that  they  had  not  the  sacred  fire  which  shone  so  bright 
in  her  assumption  as  to  make  provincialisms  of  west- 
ern speech  but  poor  flickering  flames  scarcely  worthy 
of  regard.  Of  late  years,  Clara  Morris  has  made  a 
great  advance  in  refinement,  though  she  does  not  ape 
the  manners  of  a  grande  datne.  She  has  studied  hard, 
observed  much,  mixed  in  polite  society,  and  recogniz- 
ing deficiencies  that  are  as  spots  on  the  sun,  has 
endeavored  to  correct  them.  Her  features  recall  those 
of  Rose  Cheri  to  students  of  the  stage  who  remember 
that  celebrity  of  the  Gymnase  Theatre  ;  the  mobility 
of  the  face  is  extraordinary,  and  the  clear,  full  eye  is 
employed  with  a  significance  in  which  few  actors  can 
equal  her.  Her  voice  is  capable  of  tones  that  go 
straight  to  the  heart,  and  is  used  with  a  skill  which  only 
those  who  have  studied  her  acting  closely  can  detect. 
Clara  Morris  is  eminently  a  natural  actress,  and  this 
ever-apparent  spontaneity  has  more  than  once  been 
taken  by  people  who  jump  to  conclusions  as  a  proof 
that  she  trusts  to  the  inspiration  of  the  moment  and 
improvises  her  effects  ;  such,  however,  is  not  the  case 
and  I  venture  to  say  that  though  Clara  Morris  seldom 
acts  at  rehearsals — "  Only  foreigners  can  do  that,"  she 
says,  "  the  garish  light  of  day  in  a  theatre  makes  me 
ashamed  !  " — no  actress  more  carefully  prepares  every 
inflection  of  the  voice  and  every  stage  and  climax  of 
the  character.  Hers  is  the  art  that  conceals  art,  and 
has  prompted  a  poet-critic,  Mr.  George  Edgar  Mont, 
gomery,  to  write  : 


MISS  CLARA  MORRIS.  223 

The  actress  and  the  woman  !  I  have  sought 

To  draw  the  line  between  them,  but  in  vain, 

For,  like  two  loves,  they  burn  and  throb  as  one  ; 

Her  thought  is  but  the  essence  of  all  thought, 
Her  anguish  is  the  echo  of  our  pain, 

Her  heart  and  ours  beat  in  deep  unison. 

These  lines  admirably  express  the  universality  of  Clara 
Morris's  genius  and,  what  may  be  called,  with  due  reser- 
vation, the  familiarity  of  her  style.  She  seems,  in  depict- 
ing one  of  those  women  who  have  sinned  and  suffered, 
to  appeal  to  each  one  of  the  audience  that  she  holds 
under  the  spell  of  her  intense  sympathy  with  the  loves 
and  griefs  of  her  heroine.  Her  acting  seems  to 
embody  little  unremembered  acts  of  kindness  and  of 
love  ;  as  Camille,  parting,  with  the  weight  of  self- 
sacrifice  at  her  heart,  from  the  man  who  "  shone  upon 
her  like  a  star,"  as  Miss  Multon,  fondling  her  unsus- 
pecting children,  Clara  Morris  touches  with  infinite 
tenderness  a  chord  in  the  heart  of  every  woman  who 
has  ever  loved,  of  every  mother  who  has  dreamed  of 
separation  from  her  little  ones,  and  even  affects  with 
her  strange  spell  critics  who  rail  against  her  deficien- 
cies. The  voice  of  nature  speaks  through  this  strange 
woman,  and  those  who  refuse  to  listen  to  it  must 
indeed  be  insensible.  Clara  Morris  has  herself  given 
an  interesting  account  of  the  process  of  acting,  and 
throws  some  light  upon  a  question  discussed  again 
and  again  from  the  days  of  Diderot,  and,  notably,  in 
our  own  time  by  Henry  Irving  and  Coquelin  the 
elder.  **  The  same  words,  of  course,  become  mechani- 
cal, so  far  as  mere  speech  goes.  I  open  my  mouth 
and  they  naturally  troop  forth  ;  yet  I  feel  the  part, 
and,   if  I  did   ngt,  my  audience   would    not,   either. 


2  24  ,     MISS    CLARA   MORRIS. 

There  must  seem  to  be  tears  not  only  in  my  eyes  but 
in  my  voice.  In  order  to  obtain  the  right  mood,  after 
the  part  has  become  so  familiar  that  the  woes  of  the 
personage  cease  to  affect  me,  I  am  obliged  to  resort  to 
outside  influences  ;  that  is,  I  indulge  in  the  luxury  of 
grief  by  thinking  over  somebody  else's  woes,  and* 
when  everything  else  fails,  I  think  that  I  am  dead, 
and  then  I  cry  for  myself  !  There  are,  when  I  am  on 
the  stage,  three  separate  currents  of  thought  in  my 
mind;  one  in  which  I  am  keenly  alive  to  Clara  Morris» 
to  all  the  details  of  the  play,  to  the  other  actors  and 
how  they  act  and  to  the  audience  ;  another  about  the 
play  and  the  character  I  represent  ;  and,  finally,  the 
thought  that  really  gives  me  stimulus  for  acting. 
For  instance,  when  I  repeat  such  and  such  a  line 
it  fits  like  words  to  music  to  this  under  thought 
which  may  be  of  some  dead  friend,  of  a  story  of 
Bret  Harte's,  of  a  poem,  or  may  be  even  some  pathetic 
scrap  from  a  newspaper.  As  to  really  losing  one's 
self  in  a  part,  that  will  not  do  :  it  is  worse  to  be  too 
sympathetic  than  to  have  too  much  art.  I  must  cry 
in  my  emotional  rdles  and  feel  enough  to  cry,  but  I 
must  not  allow  myself  to  become  so  affected  as  to 
mumble  my  \yords,  to  redden  my  nose,  or  to  become 
hysterical." 

This  singularly  graphic  personal  statement  will 
help  us  to  understand  how  it  is  that  Clara  Morris  is 
essentially  a  modern  actress  and  why  it  is  that,  despite 
her  abundant  power,  she  has  deprived  certain  char- 
acters, such  as  Lady  Macbeth,  of  what  may  be  called 
tragic  elevation"  and  given  them  a  contemporaneous 
coloring  which  has  brought  upon  her  head  the  re- 
proach of  "  unshaksperean."     Even  tEvadne  and  Jane 


MISS   CLARA    MORRIS.  225 

Shore  were  converted  into  incongruous  women  of  the 
present  day  ;  it  was  as  though  these  personages  had 
been  suddenly  projected  into  a  modern  street  amongst 
the  men  and  women  of  the  hour.  But  it  is  no  re- 
proach to  an  actress  to  say  that  her  genre  is  restricted 
to  one  school  when,  as  in  the  case  of  Clara  Morris, 
she  stands  incomparable  and  alone.  Though  Miss 
Morris's  creative  period  is  probably  over,  she  will 
always  be  able  to  find  harmonious  types  of  character  ; 
and  play-goers  who  saw  her  as  the  heroine  of  the 
'  Morte  Civile '  with  Salvini  at  Booth's  Theatre  will 
recall  with  what  a  sense  of  symmetry  she  embodied  a 
personage  which,  while  affording  her  no  opportunity  for 
the  stormy  scenes  of  passion  in  which  she  excels,  moves 
in  those  grooves  happily  fitted  to  her  sympathetic 
talent.  Inspired  by  the  presence  of  the  great  trage- 
dian, she  played  with  unfailing  care  throughout,  and 
left  a  highly  memorable  impression.  In  certain  collo- 
quial passages  of  her  great  characters,  Clara  Morris 
is  apt,  except  on  extraordinary  occasions,  to  save 
herself  with  a  view  to  the  more  important  scenes, 
such  as  the  mad  episode  of  '  L' Article  47,'  or  the 
last  acts  of  '  Miss  Multon  '  and  '  Camille.'  While 
it  may  be  said  of  her  performance  of  the  Anglicized 
Marguerite  Gauthier  that  it  lacks  some  of  the  sig- 
nificant details  with  which  one  or  two  other  famous 
representatives  of  the  part  have  embellished  the  earlier 
scenes,  there  can  be  no  question  that  in  point  of  elec- 
tric power — and  this  is  particularly  the  case  in  the 
fourth  act — it  remains  incomparably  eloquent.  Most 
Camilles  are  overshadowed  here  by  the  Armand,  not 
so  hers  ;  the  spectator  cannot  help  fixing  his  atten- 
tion upon  that  pale  face,  over  which   one  emotion 


2  26  MISS  CLARA    MORRIS. 

chases  another  as  swift  and  changing  as  the  winds. 
The  frail  figure  in  a  dress  which  is  worn  with  signifi- 
cant carelessness  sways  like  a  reed  in  the  agony  of 
endurance  and  no  tones  were  ever  more  poignant  than 
those  that  cry  :  "  I  would  give  a  whole  eternity  of 
life  for  one  short  hour  of  such  bliss  as  you  have  pic- 
tured now  ;  but  it  cannot  be,  it  cannot  be  !  " 

In  view  of  Clara  Morris's  peculiar  success  in  mak- 
ing the  personages  of  the  French  drama  her  own,  and 
the  keen  sympathy  of  her  impressionable  temperament 
with  the  works  of  Alexandre  Dumas  and  other  crea- 
tive authors,  it  has  often  impressed  her  admirers  with 
regret  that  some  one  of  the  masters  of  the  Paris  stage 
has  not  been  influenced  by  her  work — as  was  Dumas_/f/j 
by  that  of  Desclee  —  and  confided  to  her  types  which 
no  one  could  realize  so  well.  Unfortunately  for  her 
art,  however,  Clara  Morris  is  not  a  Farisienne,  nor  is 
the  American  dramatist  sufficiently  developed  and 
individualized  to  found  a  national  school  with  this 
strange  actress  as  its  priestess.  There  has  recently 
arisen  in  Paris  a  star,  Jane  Harding  by  name,  whose 
physiognomy  strikingly  recalls  that  of  Clara  Morris, 
but  who  lacks  our  country-woman's  originality  and  is, 
if  one  may  judge  by  her  performances  thus  far,  totally 
destitute  of  that  quality,  freely  translated  from  feu 
sacri  into  "  magnetism,"  which  distinguishes  the  work 
of  the  American  actress. 

Clinton  Stuart. 


MISS   CLARA    iM ORRIS.  227 

The  hero  of  the  new  play  produced  at  the  Fifth 
Avenue  Theatre  last  night  has  been  convicted  for  a 
crime  of  which  he  was  innocent,  has  been  sentenced 
to  eight  years'  imprisonment,  has  served  out  his  term 
and  has  returned  to  Paris,  where  he  again  enters 
society  and  marries.  His  secret  is  kept  faithfully  by 
his  mother  and  a  few  devoted  friends  ;  but  it  is  known 
to  a  fearful  woman  whom  he  formerly  loved,  whom  he 
attempted  to  kill,  but  only  disfigured  for  life.  She 
obliges  him  on  threats  of  disclosure,  to  visit  her  house 
and  to  gamble.  This  character  is  a  strong  one,  and 
Miss  Clara  Morris  shows  in  its  personation  a  superb 
power  such  as  none  of  her  warmest  admirers  had  given 
her  credit  for.  In  the  mad-scene  the  terrible  inten- 
sity of  her  acting  completely  carries  away  the  audience  ; 
and  she  won  last  night  the  most  enthusiastic  recogni- 
tion of  her  ability  from  those  present.  Indeed,  this 
performance  places  Miss  Morris  on  a  higher  plane  as 
an  emotional  actress  than  she  has  ever  occupied 
before. 

New  York  Evening  Post,  April  3,  1872. 

The  heroine  of  the  drama  is  Alixe,  which  was  acted 
by  Miss  Clara  Morris.  Fresh  in  its  beauty,  intense  in 
its  emotion,  and  gradually  built  up  from  the  first  timid 
consciousness  of  love  to  the  full-orbed  passion, — and 
that  in  trial,  suffering,  and  convulsive  struggle  with  itself 
and  with  circumstances, — this  personation  was  one  of 
the  best  pieces  of  nature,  interpreted  by  art,  that  we 
have  seen.  The  panther-like  gleams  with  which  Miss 
Morris  likes  to  fleck  her  performances  are  not  always 
to  be  approved  ;  but  they  were  in  perfect  keeping  with 
the  emotion  of  this  character  ;  and  what  we  saw  was — 


2  28  MISS  CLARA   MORRIS. 

what  we  have  not  hitherto  seen  upon  the  stage — an 
adequate  and  superb  revelation  of  woman's  passionate 
love. 

William  Winter,  in  the  New  York  Tribune^  Jan. 
22,  1873. 

The  pathos  of  Miss  Morris,  unlike  the  pathos  of 
Salvini,  is  supremely  true.  It  is  not  tearfulness  :  it 
is  heart-break.  It  is  something  which  comes  from 
the  temperament  of  the  woman,  which  cannot  be  simu- 
lated, and  which  is  seldom  felt  in  acting.  Miss  Mor- 
ris's peculiar  and  profound  power — profound  within 
its  limitations,  is  not  approached  to-day  in  acting. 
To  call  her  acting  hysterical  and  sensational,  as  it  is 
called  by  some  sage  persons,  is  mere  fatuity.  Her 
acting  is  human,  human  in  its  representation  of 
emotional  and  extreme  nature.  Miss  Morris  per- 
formed the  character  of  Rosalie  [*  La  Morte  Civile '] 
with  strong  vibratory  earnestness,  and  her  pathos 
moved  the  audience  deeply. 

George  Edgar  Montgomery,  in  the  New  York 
Times^  April  17,  1883. 


MR.  JOHN  T.  RAYMOND. 


229 


"  There's  millions  in  it  !  " —  words  devoid  of  wit ; 
But  loud  the  laugh  from  gallery  and  pit 
When  Raymond  gives  them  speculative  tone, 
And  clothes  them  with  a  humor  all  his  own. 
Sellers  gleams  faintly  on  the  printed  page, 
As  drawn  by  Clemens  in  the  '  Gilded  Age,' 
But  dominates,  in  Raymond,  all  the  stage. 
Long  may  we  live  to  see  before  us  stand 
That  humorous  figure  with  uplifted  hand  ! 

William  L.  Keese. 


230 


MR.  JOHN  T.  RAYMOND. 


A  man  who,  in  the  eighth  decade  of  the  nineteenth 
century,  has  succeeded  in  treating  the  play-going 
world  to  something  new,  may  be  regarded  as  a  public 
benefactor.  Yet  it  is  by  no  means  on  his  Colonel 
Sellers  that  Raymond  should  rest  his  highest  claims 
to  distinction.  As  Sellers,  it  is  true,  he  reaped  the 
richest  reward  of  his  labors  and  attained  the  greatest 
vogue  that  any  comedian  of  his  day  has  known;  but 
long  before  the  visionary  colonel  had  been  evolved 
by  Mark  Twain's  sketch,  Raymond  had  done  good, 
telling  work  in  many  lines  and  had  made  a  fairly  deep 
impression  on  the  stage  of  his  day. 

John  T.  Raymond  was  born  at  Buffalo,  N.  Y., 
April  5,  1836.  He  was  intended  for  mercantile  pur- 
suits, and  at  quite  an  early  age  might  have  been 
found  at  his  desk  in  a  produce  commission  house, 
where  we  may  suppose  him  to  have  become  more  or 
less  conversant  with  the  fluctuations  of  the  corn 
market  and  the  value  of  potatoes.  As  time  went  on, 
the  desk  saw  him  less  and  less  frequently,  and  after 
June  27,  1853 — a  memorable  date  in  Mr.  Raymond's 
career — it  never  saw  him  again.  The  Rochester 
Theatre,  on  that  night,  billed  the  '  Honeymoon  '  as 
the  attraction,  and  John  T.  Raymond  made  his  first 
appearance  on  any  stage  as  Lopez.     He  speaks  of  his 

231 


^32  MR.  JOHN    T.    RA  YMOND. 

d^but  as  the  most  pitiable  instance  of  stage-fright 
imaginable.  He  lost  his  lines,  his  position,  his  pres- 
ence of  mind,  and  floundered  through  his  part  as 
gracefully,  to  quote  his  own  words,  "  as  a  pig  on 
stilts."  The  audience,  however,  would  seem  to  have 
been  kind  to  the  young  aspirant ;  perhaps  the  vis 
comica  was  apparent  through  all  the  awkwardness  of 
a  first  appearance  ;  be  that  as  it  may,  the  house, 
'which  would  have  laughed  at  another,  laughed  with 
him,  and,  in  spite  of  his  nervousness,  he  made  a 
distinctly  favorable  impression.  A  season  at  the 
Rochester  Theatre,  with  a  constant  succession  of  new 
parts,  cured  him  of  his  stage-fright  and  gave  him 
some  little  experience.  Equipped  with  this  he  left 
"  the  provinces,"  and  appeared  at  Niblo's  Garden, 
New  York,  in  the  support  of  Anna  Cora  Mowatt,  who 
was  playing  a  farewell  engagement  as  Parthenia. 
For  three  years  the  young  actor  steadily  pursued  his 
profession,  principally  in  New  England  and  the 
Southern  States,  playing  as  a  rule  subordinate  parts, 
but  steadily  extending  his  experience  and  gaining 
recognition  in  the  ranks  of  the  profession. 

In  1858  Raymond  associated  himself  with  E.  A. 
Sothern,  and  in  the  following  season  made  his  first 
emphatic  and  distinctive  hit  as  Asa  Trenchard,  in 
'  Our  American  Cousin.'  He  fairly  divided  the 
honors  with  Dundreary  himself,  and  when  Laura 
Keene  revived  the  piece  in  New  York  in  1861,  Ray- 
mond was  specially  engaged  for  the  part.  There  are 
many  theatregoers  of  those  ante-bellum  days  left 
who  recall  with  pleasure  that  performance.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  the  portrayal  of  American  humor — 
nay  more,  American  character,  has  always  been  Ray- 


MR.  JOHN    T.    RA  YMOND.  233 

mond's  strong  point,  and  Asa  Tr-enchard  is,  artis- 
tically speaking,  one  of  the  best  pieces  of  work  this 
gifted  comedian  has  ever  done.  This  part  was  the 
first  which  raised  him  at  once,  in  the  estimation  of 
both  native  and  foreign  critics,  to  the  position  which 
he  still  holds,  of  the  most  distinctively  American 
comedian  on  the  stage  to-day.  In  1867  he  crossed 
the  Atlantic  and  joined  Sothern,  who  was  then  play- 
ing Lord  Dundreary  at  the  Haymarket.  Raymond's 
performance  of  Asa  Trenchardwas  a  revelation  to  the 
London  critics,  but  they  were  not  slow  to  recognize 
its  merit  and  its  truthfulness  to  nature.  Buckstone 
had  already  made  quite  a  hit  in  the  part,  dressing  it 
like  the  Yankee  of  the  comic  caricatures,  and  playing 
it  with  all  the  "tall  talkativeness  "  which  old  England 
has,  from  time  immemorial,  accepted  as  the  most 
salient  characteristic  of  New  England.  London  now 
saw,  almost  for  the  first  time,  a  genuine  American  char- 
acter, represented  by  a  competent  American  actor  ; 
and  Raymond's  success  was  assured.  The  piece  was 
susbequently  produced  at  the  Theatre  des  ItaUens, 
Paris  where  Raymond  duplicated  his  London  triumph. 
After  a  return  engagement  at  the  Haymarket  and  a 
starring  tour  in  the  British  provinces,  Raymond 
returned  to  the  United  States  and  he  soon  after- 
wards joined  the  stock  company  of  the  California 
Theatre,  San  Francisco,  under  the  management  of 
Messrs.  Barrett  and  McCullough,  where  he  appeared 
as  Graves  in  '  Money,'  Jan.  1869,  when  that  famous 
theatre  was  first  opened  to  the  public.  It  was  in 
San  Francisco,  though  not  on  this  occasion,  that 
Mr.  Raymond  was  fortunate  enough  to  secure  the 
*  Gilded  Age,'  a  play  which  has  made  a  fortune  for 


234  MK.  JOHN    T.  RA  YMOND. 

both  actor  and  author.  However,  before  that  lucky 
find,  he  had  many  vicissitudes  to  go  through,  both  as 
stock  actor  and  as  moderately  successful  star.  It  was 
on  the  occasion  of  his  second  visit  to  San  Francisco 
that  an  adaptation  of  Mark  Twain's  '  Gilded  Age  * 
was  submitted  to  him  by  Mr.  George  Dinsmore  of  the 
San  Francisco  Evening  Bulletin.  The  character  of 
Colofiel  Sellers  caught  the  comedian's  fancy  at  once  ; 
he  felt  that-there  were  **  millions  in  it,"  and  after  some 
correspondence  with  Mark  Twain  he  succeeded  in 
arranging  terms,  and  the  '  Gilded  Age '  was  pre- 
sented for  the  first  time  on  any  stage  at  the  California 
Theatre  late  in  the  season  of  1873.  Its  success  was 
instantaneous,  and  has  proved  wonderfully  enduring. 
In  Colonel  Mulberry  Sellers  he  has  a  character  after 
his  own  heart,  a  character  so  closely  resembling  his 
own  frank,  buoyant,  sanguine  disposition  that  it  is 
difficult  to  tell  where  art  ceases  and  where  nature 
commences.  Anyone  who  is  acquainted  with  John 
T.  Raymond  in  private  life  cannot  have  failed  to 
detect  in  him  the  sanguine,  glowing  enthusiasm,  the 
boundless  faith  in  the  future,  the  intense,  vivid,  boyish 
hopefulness  which,  enlarged  and  caricatured  for  stage 
effect,  amuse  us  in  Colonel  Sellers.  Those  who  have 
only  formed  the  actor's  acquaintance  since  the  date 
of  his  great  success  are  apt  to  think  that  he  has 
caught  the  infection  from  the  part  he  has  played  so 
long  ;  those  who  knew  him  in  his  earlier  days  know 
that  Colonel  Sellers  existed  before  Mark  Twain  had 
left  the  Mississippi,  and  that  the  author  had  only 
created  a  shell  into  which  Raymond  infused  his  vig- 
orous and  glowing  individuality,  animating  it  into 
bustling,  scheming  life. 


MR.  JOHN    T.    RA  YMOND.  23^ 

But,  like  many  a  greater  actor  and  many  a  lesser 
one,  Raymond's  foible  has  been  "  to  cast  himself  out 
of  his  line."  Was  there  ever  a  Gravedigger  who  did 
not  aspire  to  play  Hamlet  ?  Was  there  ever  a  Poor 
Tom  who  did  not  fancy  himself  as  King  Lear  ?  Ray- 
mond, while  the  most  popular  comedian  on  the  Ameri- 
can stage,  was  always  consumed  with  a  desire  to  play 
pathetic  parts,  and  when  the  popularity  of  Sellers 
began  to  wane — which  was  not  till  many  seasons'  use 
blunted  the  edge  of  the  novelty  of  this  most  original 
character — John  T.  Raymond  attempted  to  find  suc- 
cessors to  the  genial  Colonel  in  such  parts  as  the 
Schoolmaster,  in  the  '  Sleepy  Hollow  '  legend,  and  as  a 
lachrymose  father  in  a  piece  called  '  My  Son.'  Both 
these  attempts  were  short-lived,  and  he  returned  to 
the  field  in  which  he  had  won  his  earlier  successes. 
As  Major  Bob  Belter,  of  '  In  Paradise,'  a  play  written 
for  him  by  Jessop  and  Gill,  and  first  produced  in  Louis- 
ville in  November,  1882,  he  measurably  renewed  his 
earlier  triumphs  ;  and  later  still,  Lloyd's  '  For  Con- 
gress '  proved  a  profitable  vehicle  for  the  comedian's 
talents.  But  Colonel  Sellers  is  not  dead  yet,  and  from 
time  to  time  a  revival  of  the  '  Gilded  Age  '  can  fill  a 
theatre  still. 

There  is  no  one  but  wishes  Raymond  well,  and 
hopes  he  may  soon  secure  a  worthy  successor  to  his 
famous  visionary  colonel.  He  is  one  of  the  most  pop- 
ular men  in  the  profession,  and  even  off  the  stage, 
one  of  the  most  amusing.  A  peculiarity  of  his — for 
surely  we  may  reckon  it  a  peculiarity  in  an  actor  of 
the  present  day — is,  that  he  never  uses  tobacco  in  any 
form.  As  Major  Bob  Belter,  the  part  demanded  at  one 
time  that  he  should  light  a  cigar.     Here  was  a  serious 


436  MR.  JOHN    T.  RA  YMOND. 

difficulty.  Raymond  suggested  :  "  Well,  if  I  can't 
smoke  I  can  spit,  and  they'll  think  I'm  chewing." 
However^  that  would  not  answer,  and  the  dilemma 
had  to  be  evaded  in  some  other  way.  Raymond 
is  a  warm  friend,  which  is  a  merit  that  but  few 
have  an  opportunity  to  appreciate.  He  is  an  exces- 
sively amusing  companion,  as  all  who  have  ever  met 
him  can  testify.  He  has  a  fund  of  amusing  anecdotes, 
mostly  connected  with  his  profession,  and  is  an  excel- 
lent raconteur.  He  enjoys  a  joke  keenly,  the  more 
practical  the  better.  He  is,  emphatically,  a  general 
favorite.  He  will  live  in  the  history  of  the  stage  prin- 
cipally as  an  exponent  of  the  broader  phases  of  Ameri- 
can humor.  His  Colonel  Sellers  was  a  creation,  and  a 
creation  more  original  in  conception  and  more  perfect 
in  detail  is  not  given  more  than  a  few  times  in  each 
century.  The  names  of  Raymond  and  Sellers  will  be 
convertible  terms  for  many  a  year  to  come,  and  it  is 
to  be  regretted  that  so  admirable  a  picture  as  the  old 
colonel  was  not  relieved  by  a  better  background  than 
is  supplied  by  the  play  of  the  *  Gilded  Age,'  which  has 
only  lived  so  long  through  and  because  of  Sellers. 

Geo.  H.  Jessop. 


Whoever  failed  to  see  Mr.  Raymond  in  Mr.  Clem- 
ens's  (Mark  Twain's)  play  of  the  '  Gilded  Age,'  dur- 
ing the  recent  season  at  the  Globe  Theatre,  missed 
a  great  pleasure.  In  this  drama  a  player  last  year 
almost  unknown  takes  rank  at  once  with  the  masters 
of  his  art,  and  adds  another  to  the  group  of  realistic 
actors  whom  we  shall  be  slow  to  believe  less  fine  than 


MR.  JOHN    T.   RAYMOND.  ■      237 

the  finest  who  have  charmed  the  theatre-going  world. 
One  must  hereafter  name  Mr.  John  T.  Raymond  in 
Colonel  Sellers  with  Sothern  in  Lord  Dundreary,  with 
Jefiferson  in  Rip  Van  Winkle,  with  Salvini  in  the 
'  Morte  Civile,'  or  with  Fechter  as  Hamlet.  Like 
them  he  does  not  merely  represent ;  he  becomes,  he 
impersonates,  the  character  he  plays.  The  effect  is 
instant ;  he  is  almost  never  Raymond  from  the  mo- 
ment he  steps  upon  the  stage  till  he  leaves  it.  His 
assumption  of  Sellers  is  so  perfect  that  at  some 
regrettable  points  where  Colonel  Sellers  pushes  mat- 
ters a  little  beyond  (as  where  he  comments  to  Laura 
Hawkins  on  the  beauty  of  the  speech  her  attorney  is 
making  in  her  defense),  we  found  ourselves  wishing 
that  Sellers — not  Mr.  Raymond — would  not  overdo  it 
in  that  way Mr.  Raymond  nicely  indi- 
cates the  shades  of  the  author's  intention  in  his  Sel- 
lers, and  so  delicately  distinguishes  between  him  and 
the  vulgar,  selfish  speculator,  that  it  is  with  a  sort  of 
remorse  one  laughs  at  his  dire  poverty  in  the  scene 
where  the  door  drops  from  the  stove  and  betrays  the 
lighted  candle  which  had  imparted  a  ruddy  glow  and 
an  apparent  warmth  from  within  ;  or  again  where  he 
makes  his  friend  stay  to  dine  on  turnips  and  water, 
having  first  assured  himself  from  his  dismayed  wife 
that  the  water  is  good.  The  warm,  caressing,  affec- 
tionate nature  of  the  man  charms  you  in  Mr.  Ray- 
mond's performance,  and  any  one  who  felt  the  worth 
of  his  worthlessness  in  the  novel  will  feel  it  the  more 
in  the  play.  It  is  a  personality  rarely  imagined  by 
the  author  and  interpreted  without  loss  by  the  actor. 
W.  D.  HowELLS,  in  the  Atlantic  Monthly,  June, 
1875- 


^3^  MR.  JOHN    T.    RA  YMOND. 

Colonel  Mulberry   Sellers   had    taken    part   in  the 
recent  unpleasantness  ;  he  was  on  the  defeated  side, 
but   magnanimously   resolving    to    let    by-gones    be 
by-gones,  he  soon  determined  "  to  go  in  for  the  old 
FLAG  ! — and  an  appropriation."     Colonel  Sellers  is  a  gentle- 
man of  magnificent  vistas.     He  sees  ^.ast  avenues  of 
wealth  opened  to  him  on  all  sides  by  his  ever  alert 
invention,  and,  in  the  meantime,  is  as  poor  as  a  church 
mouse.     But  no  poverty  can  dull   the  edge   of  his 
quick-set  intellect.     If  his  steamboat  scheme  fails,  he 
takes  up  a  corn  speculation  ;  he  sees  "  millions  in  it  "  ; 
and  if  that  flags  he  can  fall  back  on  hogs — and  feed 
the  corn  to  them.     He  has  an  unbounded   faith  in 
himself,  a  faith  which  most  of  his  associates  needs 
must  share,  despite  his  frequent  mishaps  and  miscal- 
culations.    Now  there  was  in  this  character  something 
which  exactly  fell  in  with  the  times,  and  it  was  small 
wonder  as  soon  as  the  novel  of  Messrs.  Clemens  and 
Warner  was  issued,  that  an  enterprising  play-maker 
sought  to  set  the  sanguine  Sellers  at  once  upon  the 
stage.     This  first  adaptation  had  the  good  luck  to  be 
bought  by  the  one  actor  who,  by  temperament  and 
training,  was   capable  of   doing    it   justice.     In  the 
hands  of  Mr.  John  T.  Raymond,  the  careless,  reckless, 
airy  brag  and  boundless  anticipations  of  the  character 
were  rounded    into   a    harmonious   whole,    and   the 
character  itself  was  shown  to  be  simple  and  strong 
behind  all  its  eccentricities.     And  there  was  something 
in  it  that  all  Americans,  in  those  days  when  the  gilding 
was  first  washed  from  the  age  most  of  us  had  taken 
for  solid  gold, — there  was  something  in  it  we  all  could 
recognize  ;  in  fact,  there  was  scarce  one  of  us  who 
had  not  Colonel  Sellers  or  some  blood-relative  of  his 


MR.  JOHN    T.    RA  YAIOND.  239 

for  a  friend  ;  there  was  scarce  one  of  us  who  had  not 
put  money  in  schemes  hardly  more  fantastic  than  the 
visionary  Kentuckian's  Oriental  Eye-water.  Indeed, 
this  general  recognition  of  the  truth  of  the  character 
was  pushed  so  far  as  to  point  out  not  one,  but  many 
originals,  from  whom  the  portrait  had  been  drawn. 
Mr.  Raymond  has  told  me  that  he  rarely  acts  the 
character  for  a  week,  in  any  part  of  the  country, 
without  having  at  least  one  inhabitant  of  the  place 
say  to  him  confidentially  :  "  I  suppose  you  know  1  am 
the  original  Sellers.  Didn't  Mark  ever  tell  you  ? 
Well,  he  copied  me  straight  through.  Why,  all  my 
friends  knew  me  first  time  they  saw  you  !  " 

Brander  Matthews,  in  Scribner's  Monthly,  July, 
July,   1879. 

Ichabod  Crane  pervades  the  piece,  and  lights  it  up 
with  his  humor  and  good  nature.  He  is  ungainly, 
agile,  pertinacious,  fantastic,  absurd  and  ludicrous  ; 
yet  tender,  delicate  and  lovable — a  compound  of 
awkward  gallantry,  Quixotic  philanthropy,  scarecrow 
drollery,  shrewd  sense,  and  homespun  refinement. 
This  part  in  the  action  requires  a  keen  sense  of  comic 
perplexity,  a  touch  of  wistful  tenderness  here  and 
there — his  condition  is  so  forlorn — and,  in  one  scene, 
an  emotion  quite  closely  akin  to  pathos.  Mr.  Ray- 
mond has  found  in  this  a  thoroughly  congenial  part, 
and  he  infused  into  it  a  sweet  spirit,  and  treated  it 
with  a  delicacy  of  touch  that  must  have  surprised 
many  who  knew  him  only  in  the  vociferous  Sellers. 
It  was  seen,  however,  that  to  some  extent,  the  part  is 
extraneous  to  the  main  action  of  the  drama.  It 
hovers  around  the    current    of  what  is  done    and 


24°  MR.  JOHN    T.    RA  YMOND. 

suffered,  but  is  not  interpenetrated  with  these  expe- 
riences. Moreover,  in  the  enforced  transfer  of  his 
love,  wrought  by  the  coquettish  Kairina,  Ichabod 
is  trifled  with,  and  this  limits  the  scope  of  the 
character,  in  serious  acting.  Mr.  Raymond,  all  the 
same,  embodied  a  winning  identity,  and  made  as 
gracious  with  inherent  gentleness  as  it  was  droll  with 
eccentric  humor. 

William  Winter,  in  the  New  York  Tribune^  Au- 
gust 19,  1879. 

If,  however,  the  play  was  a  wearisome  one,  the 
Colonel  himself,  as  represented  by  the  American  actor, 
made  amends  for  its  shortcomings.  Mr.  Raymond  is 
an  eccentric  comedian  of  very  genuine  power,  con- 
siderable command  of  facial  expression  (without 
which,  indeed,  no  man  could  play  such  parts),  and 
untiring  energy.  He  works  hard  all  through  the 
piece,  and  gives  his  hearers  the  impression  that  he 
really  believes  in  the  extraordinary  speculations  which 
he  advocates.  His  humor,  it  must  be  said,  is  a  little 
hard  at  times,  but  the  character,  as  drawn  by  the 
author,  admits  of  very  little  light  and  shade,  and 
certainly  Mr.  Raymond  makes  the  most  of  it.  But 
many  of  his  auditors  the  other  night  must  have  wished 
to  see  so  capable  a  comedian  in  a  better  piece,  and  it 
is  to  be  hoped  we  shall  have  an  opportunity  of  doing 
so.  The  American  actor  was  somewhat  inadequately 
supported ;  but,  in"  justice  to  the  artists  engaged, 
it  must  be  said  that  they  had  uphill  work  to  per- 
form. 

H.  Savile  Clarke,  in  the  Examiner,  London,  July, 
1880. 


MR.  JOHN    T.    RA  YMOND.  24 1 

Mr.  Raymond  carries  off  all  this  tomfoolery  with 
his  well-known  dash  and  bounce.     His  proper  domain 
is  extravaganza,  and  he  revels  in  airy  absurdities.    He 
belongs   to   the    class    of   actors   whose    personality 
interests  the  public  vastly  more  than  the  characters 
they  pretend  to  represent.     When  this  play  has  run 
its  course  he  should   disdain   all  subterfuge  on  the 
programmes,  and  come  out  plainly  in  his  next  farce 
as  *  Raymond  at   the  North    Pole,'  or  '  Raymond  on 
the    Yang-tse-Kiang,'    or     where     not.      Buckstone 
adopted  this   plan   for  years   in    England,   and  was 
never  so  successful.     Grassot  and  Ravel  of  the  Palais 
Royal  gained  half  their  fame  in  pieces  that  carried 
them  through  extraordinary  adventures  under  their 
own  names.     Sellers  was  indisputably  a  bit  of  charac- 
ter ;  but  it  is  no  depreciation  of  Mr.  Raymond  to  say 
that  he  will  not  again  find  a  part  of  that  sort  until 
American  writers  of  true  humor  are  enlisted  into  the 
service  of  the  stage,  and   are  content  to  spend  long 
years  of  apprenticeship   in  learning  its  practice.     In 
the  writing  of '  Fresh  the  American  '  there  is  no  humor 
at  all.     It  furnishes  the  principal  actor  with  a  good 
supply  of  Wall  Street  slang,  and  trusts  to  his  admirable 
fooling  to  bring  it  safely  through.     This  he  does.     In 
pursuit  of  his  wife,  the  Egyptian  Princess  aforesaid, 
who  has  been  taken  from   him   and   restored  to  the 
harem  of  her  father,  Achmet  Pacha,  he  unfolds  the 
rich  assortment  of  qualities  which  are  supposed  to 
characterize  the  American  stockbroker.     He  matches 
pennies  with  Lucrezia  Borgia,  and,  having  won  her, 
sells  her  as  a  slave  to  Achmet  Pacha.     He  chaffs  the 
chief    eunuch,  kisses   the   odalisques,   and    hails  his 
father-in-law   familiarly  as   'Ach.'     He  climbs  rope- 


242  MR.  JOHN    T.   RA  YMOND. 

ladders  with  the  agility  of  a  Venetian  lover,  and 
travels  in  a  box  as  comfortably  as  the  inventor  of 
the  Flying  Trunk  in  Hans  Christian  Andersen's  fairy 
tale.  It  is  of  very  little  consequence  that  the  piece  is 
badly  written  and  worse  than  badly  constructed.  Its 
central  idea  is  good  and  its  central  figure  is  better. 
What  more  can  the  most  exacting  spectator  demand  ? 
In  New  York  the  play  may  run  till  the  spring,  and  a 
year  from  now  it  may  still  be  continuing  its  triumph- 
ant progress  round  the  country. 

The  Critic,  New  York,  February  12,  1881. 

In  default  of  American  comedy,  a  symmetrically 
rounded  whole  adequately  interpreted  in  all  its  parts, 
lovers  of  the  drama  must  needs  content  themselves 
with  the  capable  presentation  of  individual  charac- 
ters. Col.  Sellers  owed  much  of  his  success  to  the 
personal  qualifications  of  Mr.  Raymond  for  the  part ; 
to  his  expansiveness,  to  his  sanguine  imagination,  to 
his  boundless  views,  the  actor  gave  due  expression 
and  emphasis.  In  spite  of  a  few  points  of  superficial 
resemblance  Mr.  Raymond  succeeds  in  keeping  the 
insurance  agent  [in  '  Risks ']  altogether  distinct  from 
his  predecessor,  the  visionary  Southerner,  and  even 
in  showing  the  radical  difference  between  the  two. 
The  part  of  the  insurance  agent  is  cheaply  written, 
and  is  largely  made  up  of  odds  and  ends  from  Paul 
Pry  and  Mark  Meddle  and  their  kin.  The  actor  com- 
bines these  heterogeneous  elements  into  a  harmonious 
whole,  and  conceals  by  his  art  their  random  origin.  In 
'  Risks'  Mr.  Raymond  shows  himself  more  of  an  artist 
than  when  he  was  first  seen  here  in  the  '  Gilded  Age ' : 
his  execution   is   surer  and  stronger ;    he  gives  full 


MR.  JOHN    T.    RA  YMOND.  243 

effect  to  the  volubility,  the  assurance,  the  impossible 
impudence  of  the  part,  while  he  reveals  beneath  these 
characteristics  the  true  character  of  the  man,  his  sin- 
cere good  feeling,  capable  of  self-sacrifice,  if  need  be, 
and  accomplishing  it  with  the  same  unconscious  hu- 
mor with  which  he  has  just  before  seized  an  unsus- 
pecting victim  to  insist  on  the  advantages  of  life 
insui'ance. 

Brander  Matthews,  in  the  Library  Table^  Febru- 
ary 2,  1878. 

'  For  Congress  '  certainly  fulfills  its  chief  object  in 
providing  Mr.  Raymond  with  a  character  which  fits 
him  like  a  glove.  This  is  General  Josiah  Limber,  an 
Illinois  carpet-bagger,  well  versed  in  all  the  minor  arts 
of  corruption,  with  a  plentiful  lack  of  modesty  and  an 
abundance  of  lung  power.  This  personage  packs  con- 
ventions, disburses  campaign  funds,  runs  elections, 
unmasks  everybody's  villany  except  his  own,  and 
lightens  the  labors  of  statesmanship  by  paying  court 
to  two  women  at  once,  thus  involving  himself  in  com- 
plications of  a  particularly  embarrassing  nature.  Mr. 
Raymond  is  a  very  funny  man,  and  he  plays  this  part 
with  unflagging  spirits.  While  he  is  upon  the  stage — 
and  he  is  fortunately  seldom  off  it — the  merriment  is 
constantly  maintained,  and  his  performance  is  not  only 
amusing,  but  possesses  the  additional  merit  of  great 
technical  skill.  His  by-play  in  the  third  act,  where  he 
is  endeavoring  to  secure  a  written  offer  of  marriage 
which  has  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the  wrong  woman, 
may  be  mentioned  as  a  very  neat  and  effective  bit  of 
low  comedy.  His  mannerisms  of  course  are  as  marked 
as  ever,  but  he  does  some  genuine  acting  nevertheless, 
and  his  Limber  is  likely  to  become  more  popular  than 


244  MR.  JOHN    T.   RAYMOND. 

any  thing  he  has  done  since  his  first  great  success  in 
Colonel  Sellers. 

J.  Ranken  Towse,  in  the  Evening  Post^  New  York, 
Jan.  II,  1884. 

I  think  that  one  of  the  most  amusing  incidents 
during  our  stay  in  Parts  was  that  in  which  occurred 
the  performance  of  Dundreary.  You  are,  perhaps, 
aware  that  at  the  subsidy  theatres  in  France,  no 
fire,  not  even  a  lighted  match,  is  permitted  on  the 
stage.  You  will  also  recall  the  fact  that  in  one  part 
of  the  play,  Asa  Trenchard  has  to  burn  a  will.  In 
order  to  comply  with  the  law  and  at  the  same  time  get 
rid  of  this  document,  I  was  compelled  to  tear  the  will 
instead  of  applying  the  match  in  the  usual  way.  The 
result  was  that  the  part  was  not  at  ail  a  success,  much 
of  its  point  being  lost  by  the  tameness  of  the  incident. 
At  last  I  said  to  Sothern, '  I  have  a  great  mind  to  burn 
the  thing  anyhow  and  take  the  chances.'  My  misfor- 
tune was  in  confiding  my  intention  to  Sothern,  for  he 
instantly  gave  instruction  to  one  of  the  gendarmes  who 
was  hovering  about  the  wings,  to  arrest  me  in  the  act. 
When  the  scene  came  on,  anticipating  no  trouble,  but 
expecting  on  the  contrary  to  receive  a  recall,  as  I 
always  did  at  this  juncture,  I  struck  the  match  and 
lighted  the  paper.  Before  I  knew  anything  else  I 
was  seized  from  behind  by  a  big  gendarme  and  carried 
bodily  off  the  stage.  Of  course  the  audience  did  not 
know  what  was  to  pay,  and  I  was  equally  in  the  dark. 
Not  speaking  French  I  could  not  make  any  explana- 
tion, and  the  more  I  struggled  the  tighter  the  ^(f«^<:?rw<? 
held  me  in  his  grip.  It  was  only  when  Mr.  Sefton, 
the  agent  of  Mr.  Sothern,  made  his  appearance  and 


MR.  JOHN    T.   RA  YMOND.  245 

explained  matters  that  I  was  released.  You  should 
have  then  seen  how  those  two  French  soldiers  went 
for  Sothern,  mad  as  hornets  at  being  imposed  upon, 
and  the  manner  in  which  he  disappeared  down  the 
back  stairs  into  a  convenient  hiding-place.  Fortu- 
nately Sefton  was  enabled  to  appease  the  indignation 
of  the  irate  Frenchmen,  and  in  a  few  minutes  Dun- 
dreary was  permitted  to  come  out  of  his  retirement,  and 
the  play  went  on  happily  without  the  discomfiture  of 
the  audience. 

John    T.  Raymond,  in  *  Birds  of  a  Feather,'  //. 
216-17. 

Fond  of  a  practical  joke,  Mr.  Raymond  is  as  often 
the  victim  as  the  perpetrator  of  this  kind  of  wit.  For 
his  farewell  benefit  at  the  Park  Theatre,  he  invited  a 
number  of  his  comrades  from  the  Lotos  Club  to  appear 
as  Jurors,  promising  them  that  their  names  should  be 
suppressed.  It  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  that  the  full 
list  was  promptly  furnished  to  the  papers,  and  that  the 
lotos-eaters  found  themselves  unexpectedly  famous. 
But  they  had  their  revenge.  The  entire  point  of 
the  final  scene  of  the  play  depends  upon  the 
verdict  of  "  Not  Guilty,"  promptly  rendered  by  the 
jury,  to  whom  Colonel  Sellers  has  appealed.  But 
the  keen  sense  of  humor  of  Juror  Hiltman  saw 
an  opening  for  fun  through  his  blue  goggles,  and 
Foreman  Shaw  answered  ''  Guilty  "  to  the  demand  of 
the  Court.  There  was  a  pause — a  dead  silence,  and 
then  a  roar  of  laughter  from  the  audience,  who  took 
in  the  situation.  For  a  moment  Raymond  lost  his 
grip  and  ejaculated,  "  Oh,  'Shaw  !  They  don't  mean 
it — they    mean    just    the    other    way."      "  Guilty  !  " 


246  MH.  JOHN    T.    RA  YMOND. 

repeated  Foreman  Shaw,  grimly  ;  and  the  action  of 
the  play  stopped  as  completely  as  grandfather's  clock. 
But  by  this  time  Raymond  had  recovered  his  self-pos- 
session. He  saw  from  the  laughing  eyes  that  glit- 
tered under  the  disguises  of  the  clubites  that  it  would 
be  of  no  use  to  poll  that  jury.  "  I  move,  your  Honor, 
that  the  jury  be  allowed  to  retire  for  consultation  !  " 
he  shouted  ;  and  then  in  a  passionate  whisper,  ap- 
pealed to  the  boys  to  "  let  up,  for  Heaven's  sake." 
The  appeal  was  too  real  to  be  resisted,  the  surrender 
of  the  practical  joker  too  humble  to  be  refused,  and 
the  foreman  gravely  stated  that  he  desired  to  change 
the  verdict  to  "  Not  Guilty."  Then  came  the  hurrahs 
of  the  supernumeraries,  the  delight  of  Colonel  Sellers, 
the  vindication  of  the  heroine — and  the  curtain. 
The  Musical  Times^  New  York,  October  ii,  1879. 


MISS  ELLEN  TERRY. 


247 


A  wind  of  spring  that  whirls  the  feigned  snows 
Of  blossom-petals  in  the  face,  and  flees  : 
Elusive,  made  of  mirthful  mockeries. 

Yet  tender  with  the  prescience  of  the  rose  ; 

A  strain  desired,  that  through  the  memory  goes, 
Too  subtle-slender  for  the  voice  to  seize  ; 
A  flame  dissembled,  only  lit  to  tease. 

Whose  touch  were  half  a  kiss,  if  one  but  knows. 

She  shows  by  Leonatos  dove-like  daughter 
A  falcon,  by  a  prince  to  be  possessed. 

Gay  graced  with  bells  that  ever  chiming  are  ; 
In  azure  of  the  bright  Sicilian  water. 
A  billow  that  has  rapt  into  its  breast 
The  swayed  reflection  of  a  dancing  star ! 

Helen  Gray  Cone. 


248 


MISS  ELLEN  TERRY. 


The  admirers  of  Miss  Ellen  Terry — and  those  who 
observe  her  acting  with  sympathy  and  insight  can 
hardly  fail  to  admire  this  gifted  and  charming  woman 
— have  been  disposed  to  apply  to  her  a  quotation  from 
'  Much  Ado  About  Nothing'  :  "  A  star  danced — and 
under  that  I  was  born."  The  application  of  this  bit 
of  fancy  is  not,  in  the  circumstances,  unpleasantly 
extravagant.  It  is  quite  probable  that  Miss  Terry 
was  born  under  a  dancing  star.  Stars  appear  to  dance 
occasionally  in  certain  latitudes,  and  Miss  Terry  was 
not  born  in  the  tropics,  where  star-light  is  quiescent. 
Her  temperament  is  chiefly  that  of  restless  sparkle. 
When  it  does  not  sparkle,-  it  is  singularly  sweet  and 
plaintive.  And  the  brightest  buoyant  stars  seem  often 
sweet  and  plaintive. 

Miss  Terry  occupies  a  somewhat  peculiar  place 
upon  the  stage.  She  is  the  leading  actress  in  the 
leading  theatre  of  England.  She  is  the  honored  and 
equal  associate  of  the  most  distinguished  and  distinct- 
ive actor  in  England.  Her  triumphs  have  been  won 
in  a  perfectly  simple  and  natural  manner,  without 
special  effort  or  commercial  enterprise.  There  has 
been  no  attempt  made  by  her  to  attain  success  at  the 
expense  of  good  method  and  good  theatrical  morals. 
She  has  not  pushed   herself  into  a  superficial  and 

249 


2SO  MISS  ELLEN   TERRY. 

glaring  prominence.  When  one  stops  to  contrast  her 
unobtrusive,  substantial  career,  with  the  career  of 
several  actresses,  her  contemporaries,  who  have  con- 
quered brilliant  achievements,  the  impression  left  upon 
the  mind  by  this  contrast  is  altogether  in  her  favor. 

There  are,  it  may  be  said  without  the  least  fear  of 
contradiction,  many  accomplished  actresses  upon  the 
stage  whom  one  regards  with  esteem  and  sincere  favor, 
without  feeling  the  need  of  discussing  their  qualities 
of  talent,  temperament,  and  character,  too  seriously. 
They  are  the  actresses  who  are  praised  as  a  matter  of 
course.  Not  because  they  happen  to  be  great — since 
greatness  involves  perpetual  argument  and  criticism — 
but  because  they  are  entirely  respectable,  evenly  intel- 
ligent, and  never  by  any  chance  shocking  or  surprising. 
Miss  Terry  is  not  one  of  these  actresses.  She  does 
some  things  very  well  and  other  things  very  poorly. 
She  is  an  artistic  and  aesthetic  see-saw.  She  is  uneven, 
erratic.  It  is  impossible  to  count  upon  her.  But 
there  is  always  the  possibility  that  her  acting  will 
reveal  the  impulses  of  an  original  mind,  the  emotions 
of  a  spontaneous  and  sympathetic  nature,  the  mild  and 
free  beauty  of  a  copious,  affluent  talent. 

Miss  Terry  has  not  been  subjected  at  any  time  to 
methodical  training  in  the  art  of  acting.  Yet  she  has 
enjoyed  exceptional  experience,  practical  schooling  in 
the  provincial  theatres  of  Great  Britain,  and  the  coun- 
sel of  older  and  wiser  heads.  She  belongs,  moreover, 
to  a  family  that  has  added  distinction  and  authority 
to  the  stage.  It  was  her  good  fortune  to  join  Mr. 
Irving's  company  at  the  turning-point  of  her  career. 
This  was  more  than  good  for  her  :  it  was  a  kind  of 
fortunate  destiny.     It  is  pretended  that  certain  men 


MTSS  ELLEN'   TERRY.  251 

are  undoubtedly  created  for  certain  women.  Why, 
then,  should  not  certain  actors  be  created  for  certain 
actresses.  Mr.  Irving  and  Miss  Terry  fit  each  other 
so  perfectly,  so  phenomenally,  in  acting,  that  it  is 
difficult  to  think  of  him  without  thinking  of  her.  And 
I  may  add  that,  without  Mr.  Irving's  potent  and 
beneficent  influence,  Miss  Terry  would  be  a  less 
apprec.'ated  actress  than  she  is.  The  conditions  and 
influences  of  the  Lyceum  Theatre  are  as  skilfully 
adjusted  to  her  talent  as  to  Mr.  Irving's.  The  atmos- 
phere of  the  place  stimulates  her,  its  brilliant  traditions 
surround  and  absorb  her.  She  is  a  commanding, 
beautiful,  luminous  figure  in  the  popular  temple. 

Miss  Terry's  peculiar  talent  was  discovered  long 
before  she  was  invited  by  Mr.  Irving  to  succeed  Miss 
Bateman  at  the  Lyceum  Theatre  ;  or,  rather — for  I 
desire  to  be  quite  just  to  Mr.  Irving's  acute  perception 
of  merit — this  actor  was  one  of  the  first  persons  that 
discovered  it,  nearly  twenty  years  ago.  In  1867  Miss 
Terry  and  Mr.  Irving  acted  together,  at  London,  in 
'  Katherine  and  Petruchio.'  Miss  Terry  was  then  only 
nineteen  years  old.  Mr.  Irving  was  deeply  impressed 
by  her  performance  and  it  is  even  said  that,  at  this 
early  period  of  his  artistic  life,  he  promised  himself  the 
pleasure  of  choosing  Miss  Terry  as  his  leading  actress 
when  he  should  become  the  manager  of  a  theatre. 
Mr.  Irving  fulfilled  his  promise,  but  he  was  in  a  fair 
way  of  being  disappointed  by  Miss  Terry  herself. 
In  1867  Miss  Kate  Terry,  after  a  long  and  honorable 
career,  retired  permanently  from  the  stage.  Miss 
Ellen  Terry  was  disposed  to  follow  her  elder  sister's 
example,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  she  had  been  greeted 
with   enthusiasm   and    acclaimed   as   an    actress  of 


2$ 2  MISS  ELLEN   TERRY. 

extraordinary  gifts  by  critical  observers  and  by  the 
public.  Nevertheless,  Miss  Terry  did  retire  tempo- 
rarily in  1868.  Her  reappearance,  six  years  later,  at 
the  Queen's  Theatre,  was  unexpected  and  all  the  more 
delightful  for  that  reason.  One  of  the  most  compe- 
tent of  the  English  critics  wrote  at  the  time  :  "  The 
reappearance  of  this  young  actress  was  welcomed 
with  a  cordiality  fairly  expressive  of  the  value  attached 
to  those  pleasant  remembrances  ;  and  the  position 
vacated  by  Mrs.  John  Wood,  through  the  claims  of 
other  engagements,  could  not  have  been  more  satis- 
factorily filled." 

The  record  of  Miss  Terry's  career  may  be  briefly 
summarized.  She  was  born  at  Coventry,  Feb.  27,  1847, 
(Mr.  Pascoe,  in  his  '  Dramatic  List,'  gives  the  date 
as  1848,  but  that  appears  to  be  incoiTect.)  When  she 
was  hardly  more  than  an  infant,  she  was  exhibited  in 
a  pantomime,  at  Hull  ;  but  her  first  appearance  was 
effected,  practically,  as  the  child  Mamilius  in  the 
*  Winter's  Tale,'  produced  by  Charles  Kean  towards 
the  end  of  his  remarkable  period  of  management  at 
the  Princess's  Theatre.  In  1858,  she  was  seen  as 
Arthur  in  Mr.  Kean's  second  revival  of  '  King  John.' 
These  two  performances  revealed  Miss  Terry  as  an 
actress  of  marked  precocity.  After  Mr.  Kean  gave 
up  the  Princess's  Theatre,  Miss  Terry  drifted  out  of 
public  sight  and  was  soon  forgotten.  Meanwhile,  she 
was  preparing  herself  for  serious  undertakings.  It  is 
believed  that  she  acted  at  Bath  and  Bristol,  serving 
an  arduous  apprenticeship  in  those  places.  In  March, 
1863,  she  reappeared  in  London,  at  the  Haymarket 
Theatre  ;  her  part  was  Gertrude,  in  the  '  Little  Treas- 
ure' (an  adaptation  of  '  La  Joie  de  la  Maison').     Ger- 


MISS  ELLEN    TERRY.  253 

trude  is  an  impulsive,  gentle,  lovable  little  creature 
audacious  in  her  innocence  and  unhampered  by  con- 
ventional training.  Miss  Terry  achieved  noteworthy 
success  in  this  character,  and  was  accepted  at  once  as 
an  actress  of  high  spirit  and  enchanting  simplicity. 
Her  next  performance  was  that  oi  Hero  in  *  Much  Ado 
About  Nothing.'  She  acted  also  Mary  Meredith  in 
'Our  American  Cousin,' and  other  secondary  parts. 
There  was  another  period  of  retirement  between  1863 
and  1867  ;  during  the  latter  year,  she  appeared  at  the 
New  Queen's  Theatre,  in  Charles  Reade's  adaptation 
from  the  French,  the  '  Double  Marriage,'  a  stagnant 
play  which  has  been  produced  in  New  York  by  Miss 
Kate  Claxton.  Miss  Terry  performed  subsequently 
the  familiar  character  oi  Mrs.  Mildmay  in  '  Still  Waters 
Run  Deep,"  and  Katherine  to  the  Petruchio  of  Mr. 
Irving. 

At  her  third  re-entrance  in  London,  during  1874, 
Miss  Terry  gave  a  spirited  and  clever  performance  of 
Philippa  Chester,  in  a  revival  of  Charles  Reade's 
ingenious  drama,  the  'Wandering  Heir.'  Later 
on  she  played  Susan  Merton  in  '  It's  Never  too 
Late  to  Mend.'  At  the  Prince  of  Wales's  Theatre,  in 
1875,  she  appeared  for  the  first  time  as  Portia,  in  the 
'Merchant  of  Venice.'  Mr.  Coghlanwas  the  Shylock. 
As  Portia  is  considered  to-day  one  of  Miss  Terry's 
most  fascinating  and  eloquent  impersonations,  the 
reader  may  be  curious  to  know  how  it  was  regarded 
at  the  outset.  One  commentator  wrote  of  it  :  "  The 
bold  innocence,  the  lively  wit  and  quick  intelligence, 
the  grace  and  elegance  of  manner,  and  all  the  youth 
and  freshness  of  this  exquisite  creation,  can  rarely 
have    been    depicted    in   such    harmonious    proper- 


254  MISS  ELLEN   TERRY. 

tion."  During  the  same  year  Miss  Terry  appeared  as 
Clara  Douglas  in  '  Money,'  and  was  found  exceedingly 
impressive  in  this  character.  She  was  placed  above 
Mrs.  Bancroft  for  natural  expression,  and  was  com- 
pared to  Desclee.  It  was  not  a  long  step  from  Clara 
Douglas  to  Pauline  in  the  '  Lady  of  Lyons,'  and  Miss 
Terry  took  the  step  easily.  She  was  admired  subse- 
quently, at  the  Prince  of  Wales's  Theatre  as  Mabel  Vane 
in  '  Masks  and  Faces,'  and  as  Blanche  Haye  in  Rob- 
ertson's *  Ours.'  In  1876,  she  joined  the  company  at 
the  Court  Theatre,  a  small  house  at  the  south-west  end 
of  London.  There  she  acted  in  a. revival  of  *  New  Men 
and  Old  Acres,'  and  as  Olivia  in  Mr.  W.  G.  Wills's 
pathetic  play,  arranged  from  the  '  Vicar  of  Wakefield.' 

Miss  Terry's  performance  of  Olivia  defined  accu- 
rately her  place  upon  the  stage.  It  was  the  crown  of 
many  triumphs,  and  it  won  for  her  the  affection,  the 
adulation  of  a  public  which  is  not  disposed  to  accept 
new  faces  and  new  methods  lightly.  Miss  Terry's 
extraordinary  success  in  Mr.  Wills's  play  led  to  her 
engagement,  by  Mr.  Irving,  for  the  Lyceum  Theatre, 
and  on  the  evening  of  Dec.  30,  1878,  Miss  Terry  was 
welcomed  for  the  first  time  on  that  stage.  Miss 
Isabel  Bateman  had  acted  Ophelia  to  Mr.  Irving's 
Hamlet.  Miss  Terry  took  her  place  and  surpassed 
her.  The  event  was  momentous  for  the  stage,  as  it 
was  momentous  for  Mr.  Irving  and  Miss  Terry, 
Nothing  could  have  been  more  perfect  in  its  way  than 
the  Ophelia  of  Miss  Terry — a  distinctly  intellectual 
and  poetic  conception,  interpreted  and  illuminated  by 
action  radiant  in  its  grace  and  loveliness  and  softened 
with  irrisi.stible  pathos. 

The  record  of  Miss  Terry's  performances  at  the 


MISS  ELLEN   TERRY.  255 

Lyceum  Theatre  has  been  almost  unbroken  by  failure. 
As  Ophelia,  Beatrice,  Letitia  Hardy,  Portia,  Ruth  in 
'  Eugene  Aram,'  Jeannette  in  the  *  Lyons  Mail,"  Hen- 
rietta Maria  in  '  Charles  I.' — in  all  these  characters  and 
in  many  others,  she  has  sustained  her  reputation  as  an 
actress  of  large  accomplishment,  delicate  sensibility, 
and  independent  mind. 

Miss  Terry  was  introduced  to  the  American  public 
in  New  York,  at  the  Star  Theatre,  on  the  evening  of 
Oct.  31,  1883.  This  was  the  second  night  of  Mr. 
Irving's  first  engagement  there.  On  the  preceding 
night,  Mr.  Irving  had  made  an  auspicious  opening  as 
Mathias  in  the  '  Bells.'  Miss  Terry  has  no  part  in 
this  strange  and  thrilling  play — thrilling,  it  must  be 
admitted,  chiefly  because  Mr.  Irving  dominates 
it  with  his  quaint,  picturesque,  and  vivid  per- 
sonality. The  '  Bells '  was  followed  by  *  Charles 
I.,'  a  drama  of  persuasive  and  tender  interest, 
and  an  unjustifiable  contortion  of  history.  In 
'  Charles  I.*  Miss  Terry  gave  an  impersonation  of 
Queen  Henrietta,  and  interpreted  this  capricious, 
impetuous,  devoted  wife  with  spontaneous  aptitude 
and  unaffected  dignity.  Afterward  she  became  suc- 
cessively/'^/'//i?  in  the  *  Merchant  of  Venice,'  Jeannette 
in  the  '  Lyons  Mail,'  Letitia  Hardy  in  the  '  Belle's 
Stratagem,'  Beatrice  in  *  Much  Ado  About  Nothing,' 
Viola  in  '  Twelfth  Night,'  and  Ophelia  in  '  Ham- 
let.' Mr.  Irving  and  Miss  Terry  made  their  second 
tour  through  the  United  States  during  the  season  of 
1884-85.  Since  then  they  have  not  acted  in  America, 
although  they  visited  New  York  in  the  summer  of 
1886. 

It  does  not  seem  to  be  necessarj',  in  an  impartial 


2 $6  MISS  ELLEN   TERRY. 

consideration  of  Miss  Terry's  acting,  to  speak  of  this 
as  something  better  than  it  is  in  order  that  one  may 
praise  it  effectively.  The  tendency  to  describe 
Miss  Terry  in  hyperbole  has  been  rather  marked, 
whereas  it  ought  not  to  be  a  difficult  task  to  describe 
her  in  accurate  and,  at  the  same  time,  sympathetic 
language.  Some  judicious  observer  will  undoubtedly 
attempt  this  task  in  the  future,  and  he  will  find  the 
business  full  of  cheerful  inspiration.  It  is  impossible 
to  think  of  Miss  Terry  without  piquant  pleasure  and  a 
certain  indefinable  good  humor.  The  highest  acting 
is  tragic,  and  she  is  not  tragic.  The  highest  actresses 
are  women  of  broad  intellectual  power  and  fervid  pas- 
sion— the  Medeas  and  Lady  Macbeths  of  the  stage  : 
Miss  Terry  does  not  belong  to  their  rank  and  fails  to 
suggest  even  vaguely  the  scope  and  splendor  of  their 
genius.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  one  may  say  of  Miss 
Terry  that  she  remains  in  the  memory,  as  some  ravish- 
ing dream  of  youth,  beauty,  and  sweetness  remains 
there  ;  at  moments  she  has  a  frolicsome  and  bewitch- 
ing spirit,  the  spirit  of  Beatrice  ;  and  at  other  mo- 
ments her  eyes  are  languid  with  grief  and  pity,  and 
her  face  is  pallid  with  the  plaintive  hopelessness  of 
Ophelia.  The  exquisite  images  of  womanhood  that  are 
recalled,  when  one  recalls  the  acting  of  Miss  Terry, 
after  a  brief  lapse  of  years,  are  almost  invariably  dis- 
tinct and  picturesque.  That  is  because  Miss  Terry 
reveals,  in  each  of  her  performances,  the  life,  the  spir- 
itual nature,  of  a  woman,  rather  than  the  mechanism  of 
a  character.  There  is  more  soul  than  art  in  her  act- 
ing. Occasionally,  there  appears  to  be  too  little  art, 
the  absence  of  it  resulting  in  restless  and  aimless 
action,  superfluity  of  gesture,  and  monotony  of  speech. 


MISS  ELLEN-   TERRY.  2$! 

But  these  are  slight  faults  in  the  sum  of  rich  and  noble 
acting.  The  limits  of  Miss  Terry's  power  are  indi- 
cated by  her  Beatrice  and  Ophelia.  These  characters 
are  the  extremes  of  feminine  individuality.  Beatrice 
is  audacious,  quick  in  wit  and  invention,  self-contained, 
bold,  and  brilliant ;  Ophelia  is  fragile,  tender,  unim- 
passioned,  feeble  in  brain  and  impulse,  a  pitiful  and 
pathetic  figure.  The  Beatrice  of  Miss  Terry  has  all 
the  dash,  all  the  fascination  and  fearlessness,  all  the 
elasticity,  of  scornful'  youth  ;  and  her  Ophelia  is  gen- 
tle, winsome,  and  heartbreaking.  Miss  Terry  is 
entirely  original,  and  her  originality  lies  both  in  feel- 
ing and  manner.  She  sees  things  as  others  might  not 
see  them,  and  she  does  things  as  others  would  not  do 
them.  With  her  bright,  fresh  mind,  her  fluent  vitality, 
her  strong  personality,  her  striking  presence,  her  soft 
and  musical  voice,  and  her  expressive,  picturesque, 
uncommon  face — she  is,  perhaps,  one  of  the  few 
actresses  who  could  hold  a  lofty  place  successfully  in 
association  with  Mr.  Irving. 

George  Edgar  Montgomery. 


My  recollection  of  Miss  Ellen  Terry  dates  from  her 
impersonation  of  the  little  Duke  of  York.  She  was  a 
child  of  six,  or  thereabout,  slim  and  dainty  of  form, 
with  profuse  flaxen  curls,  and  delicately-featured 
face  curiously  bright  and  arch  of  expression  ;  and  she 
won,  as  I  remember,  her  first  applause  when,  in  clear 
resonant  tones  she  delivered  the  lines  : 

Uncle,  my  brother  mocks  both  you  and  me  ; 

Because  that  I  am  liule,  like  an  ape, 

He  thinks  that  you  should  bear  me  on  your  shoulders. 


25 8  MISS  ELLEN   TERRY. 

Richard's  representative  meantime  scowling  wickedly 
and  tugging  at  his  gloves  desperately,  pursuant  to 
paternal  example  and  stage  tradition.  A  year  or  two 
later  and  the  baby-actress  was  representing  now 
Mamilius  and  now  Puck,  her  precocious  talent  obtain- 
ing, I  observe,  the  favorable  mention  of  Mr.  Charles 
Kean's  biographer,  who  comments,  too,  upon  "  the 
restless  elfish  animation  and  evident  enjoyment  of 
her  own  mischievous  pranks  "  she  displayed  as  the 
merry  goblin,  Robin  Goodfellow.  Upon  the  second 
revival  of  'King  John,'  in  1858,  Miss  Ellen  Terry 
succeeded  to  the  part  of  Prince  Arthur,  which  her 
sister  was  now  deemed  to  have  outgrown. 

The  public  applauded  these  Terry  sisters,  not 
simply  because  of  their  prettiness  and  cleverness, 
their  graces  of  aspect,  the  careful  training  they 
evidenced,  and  the  pains  they  took  to  discharge  the 
histrionic  duties  entrusted  to  them,  but  because  of  the 
leaven  of  genius  discernible  in  all  their  performances 
. — they  were  born  actresses.  Children  educated  to 
appear  becomingly  upon  the  scene  have  always  been 
obtainable,  and  upon  easy  terms  ;  but  here  were  little 
players  who  could  not  merely  repeat  accurately  the 
words  they  had  learned  by  rote,  but  could  impart 
sentiment  to  their  speeches,  could  identify  themselves 
with  the  characters  they  played,  could  personate  and 
portray,  could  weep  themselves  that  they  might  surely 
make  others  weep,  could  sway  the  emotions  of 
crowded  audiences.  They  possessed  in  full  that 
power  of  abandonment  to  scenic  excitement  which  is 
rare  even  among  the  most  consummate  of  mature  per- 
formers. They  were  carried  away  by  the  force  of 
their  own  acting  ;  there  were  tears  not  only  in  their 


MISS  ELLEN   TERRY.  259 

voices,  but  in  their  eyes  ;  tiieir  mobile  faces  were 
quick  to  reflect  the  significance  of  the  drama's  events  ; 
they  could  listen,  their  looks  the  while  annotating,  as 
it  were,  the  discourse  they  heard  ;  singular  animation 
and  alertness  distinguished  all  their  movements,  atti- 
tudes, and  gestures.  There  was  special  pathos  in  the 
involuntary  trembling  of  their  baby  fingers,  and  the 
unconscious  wringing  of  their  tiny  hands  ;  their  voices 
were  particularly  endowed  with  musically  thrilling 
qualities.  I  have  never  seen  audiences  so  agitated 
and  distressed,  even  to  the  point  of  anguish,  as  were 
the  patrons  of  the  Princess's  Theatre  on  those  bygone 
nights  when  little  Prince  Arthur,  personated  by 
either  of  the  Terry  sisters,  clung  to  Hubert's  knees  as 
the  heated  irons  cooled  in  his  hands,  pleading  pas- 
sionately for  sight,  touchingly  eloquent  of  voice  and 
action  :  a  childish  simplicity  attendant  ever  upon  all 
the  frenzy,  the  terror,  the  vehemence,  and  the  despair 
of  the  speeches  and  the  situation. 

Button  Cook,  in  the  Theatre,  June,  1880. 

I  have  yet  to  allude  to  Mr.  Irving's  masterstroke  as 
a  manager — the  creation  of  a  tragedienne  in  Miss 
Ellen  Terry.  The  British  public  has  accepted  her 
with  acclamation  in  that  character,  thus  justifying  Mr. 
Irving's  choice,  which  is  all  I  am  here  concerned 
with.  To  those  who,  in  tragic  parts,  demand  more 
than  graceful  attitudes  and  a  sing-song  recitation,  it 
must  seem  a  pity  that  this  most  charming  of  all  our 
actresses  of  comedy  should  have  been  translated  into 
a  sphere  in  which  she  is  so  far  from  at  home.  Even 
at  the  Lyceum  she  has  not  been  without  chances  of 
showing  her  true  gifts.     How  exquisite  is  her  Letitia 


26o  MISS  ELLEN   TERRY. 

Hardy,  her  lolanthe  (in  Mr.  Wills's  play),  htx  Ruth  in 
'Eugene  Aram/  even  her  Desdemona!  As  for  her 
Ophelia,  her  Pauline,  her  Juliet,  even  her  Portia  and 
her  Beatrice,  *  //t';/  ragionia?n  di  lor.'  The  public  and 
the  critics  are  pleased  with  them,  and  to  give  the 
reasons  for  my  dissent "  would  lead  me  far  from  my 
subject,  which  is  not  Miss  Terry,  but  is  Mr.  Irving. 
Suffice  it  to  note  his  penetration  in  discerning  in  Miss 
Terry  the  almost  necessary  complement  to  his  own 
talent.  Whatever  her  absolute  merits  in  a  part,  she 
always  harmonizes  as  perhaps  she  alone  could  with 
the  whole  tone  of  the  picture.  She  gives  their  crown- 
ing charm  to  the  fabrics  of  South  Kensington.  She 
has  all  the  outward  and  visible  signs  of  the  inward 
and  spiritual  grace  which  covers  a  multitude  of  his- 
trionic sins — I   mean,  of  course,  intensity. 

William  Archer  :  *  Henry  Irving,  Actor  and  Man- 
ager,'//.   lOO-I. 

The  most  surprising  and  absorbing  performance  of 
the  night  was  that  of  Miss  Ellen  Terry,  who  came 
forward  as  Queen  Henrietta  Maria,  making  her  first 
appearance  in  America.  She  was  welcomed  with 
enthusiasm  and  was  called  before  the  curtain  again 
and  again  as  the  night  wore  on.  Her  dazzling  beauty 
as  the  Queen,  and  her  strange  personal  fascination — 
in  which  a  voice  of  copious  and  touching  sweetness  is 
conspicuous,  would  partly  explain  this  result.  But, 
"  there's  more  in't  than  fair  visage."  The  Queen 
has  to  exhibit  impetuosity  and  caprice.  She  has  to 
express  conjugal  tenderness  and  to  illustrate  a 
woman's  fidelity  to  the  man  whom  she  loves,  when 
that  man  is  in  trouble  and  danger.     She  has  to  ask  a 


AfISS  ELLEN    TERRY,  26 1 

boon  from  a  tyrant,  and  turn  upon  him  in  scorn  and 
noble  pride  when  repulsed.  The  situations  are  all 
conventional,  and  even  hackneyed.  What  shall  be 
said  of  the  personality  that  can  make  them  fresh  and 
new  ?  Miss  Terry  is  spontaneous,  unconventional 
and  positively  individual,  and  will  use  all  characters 
in  the  drama  as  vehicles  for  the  expression  of  her 
own.  This,  in  Queen  Henrietta  Maria,  was  a  very  great 
excellence.  Miss  Terry's  acting  has  less  mind  in  it 
than  that  of  Mr.  Irving,  though  not  deficient  here, 
but  it  proceeds  essentially  from  the  nervous  system — 
from  the  soul.  There  were  indications  that  her  special 
vem  is  high  comedy  ;  but  she  was  all  the  woman  in 
the  desolate  farewell  scene  that  ends  the  piece,  and 
she  melted  every  heart  with  her  distress,  even  as  she 
had  charmed  every  eye  with  her  uncommon  loveliness. 
William  Winter  :  '  Henry  Irving,'  //.  23-4. 

The  striking  excellences  of  Ellen  Terry's  Portia  are, 
if  any  thing,  bettered  by  being  transferred  to  a  larger 
stage  than  that  on  which  they  were  first  presented  to 
a  London  audience.  Every  changing  phase  of  the 
part  is  rendered  with  the  highest  instinct  and  art,  and 
every  change  seems  natural  and  easy.  The  tender- 
ness ;  the  love  so  fine  that  it  finds  no  check  to  open 
acknowledgment  ;  the  wit,  the  dignity  ;  and  in  the 
last  scene  the  desire  to  be  merciful  and  to  inspire 
mercy,  giving  way  to  a  just  and  overwhelming  wrath, 
and  followed  again  by  the  natural  playfulness  of  the 
lady  who  is  not  the  less  a  great  lady  because  she 
indulges  it,  are  alike  rendered  with  a  skill  that  one 
must  call  perfect.  As  feats  of  acting  the  assumption 
to  Nerissa  of  a  bragging  youth's  manner,  and  the  exit 


262  MISS  ELLEN    TERRY. 

in  the  trial  scene  are  specially  remarkable  ;  but  it  is 
needless  to  point  out  in  detail  the  patent  beauties  of  a 
performance  with  which  we  can  find  no  fault. 

Walter  Herries  Pollock,  in  the  Saturday  Review, 
Nov.  8,  1879. 

The  most  fortunate  moments  of  her  acting  come  so 
near  to  the  magic  of  nature,  the  charm  that  she  exerts 
at  such  times  seems  to  be  so  completely  the  outcome 
of  sudden  inspiration,  that  there  is  a  danger  of  alto- 
gether ignoring  the  presence  of  an  artistic  faculty 
which  is  exercised  with  so  much  subtlety  and  finesse. 
This  unrivalled  simplicity  m  touching  the  finer  chords 
of  feeling  is  associated  with  a  personality  that  enters 
naturally  into  the  abstract  creations  of  poetical  drama. 
She  can  cast  aside  without  effort  all  those  little  points 
of  dress  and  manner  and  bearing  by  which  we  are  wont 
to  identify  the  social  life  and  habits  of  our  time,  and 
she  can  pass  with  equal  ease  and  assurance  into  the 
freer  and  larger  air  of  the  world  of  fancy  and  imagina- 
tion. The  inherent  limitation  of  her  art  lies  on  the 
side  of  passion  ;  the  stronger  moods  of  feeling  that 
spring  out  of  a  complex  character  deeply  touched  by 
suffering  and  experience,  lie  clearly  beyond  the  range 
of  her  power  ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  there  is  no 
actress  of  our  time  who  can  express  with  equal  force 
or  refinement  the  tenderness  of  a  simple  nature,  the 
pathos  that  belong  to  suffering  that  is  past,  or  the 
playful  gaiety  of  a  sensitive  temperament  where 
laughter  may  quickly  change  to  tears.  The  grief  of 
Ophelia,  half  remembered  and  half  forgotten  in  her 
madness,  and  with  every  painful  suggestion  subdued 
to  the  service  of  ideal  grace  and  beauty,  gave  Miss 


MISS  ELLEN-  TERRY.  263 

Terry  an  admirable  opportunity  for  the  display  of  her 
powers.  The  delicate  realism  of  the  impersonation 
enforced  but  did  not  injure  the  imaginative  complete- 
ness of  the  original :  it  left  intact  all  that  is  ideal  and 
fanciful  in  the  finer  structure  of  a  poet's  work.  Side 
by  side  with  the  ineffaceable  recollection  of  such  a 
performance  as  this  was  may  be  set  the  remembrance 
of  Miss  Terry's  Olivia,  a  creation  of  faultless  taste  and 
charm,  so  simple  in  its  method,  and  so  convincing  in  its 
reality,  that  even  the  most  accomplished  of  those  who 
played  with  her  seemed  to  expose  themselves  to  the 
reproach  of  artifice  and  convention.  We  may  recall 
also  the  heart-broken  utterances  of  Desdemona  confid- 
ing to  lago  the  loss  of  her  husband's  love  ;  and  with 
any  of  these  souvenirs  of  the  past  we  may  compare 
without  danger  of  disappointment  the  gaiety  and  rail- 
lery of  Beatrice,  falling  like  a  veil  at  the  sudden  stroke 
of  wrong  to  one  she  loved,  and  exposing  the  depth 
and  tenderness  of  a  true  woman's  heart. 

J.  CoMYNS  Carr,  in  the  Fortnightly  Review,  Febru- 
ary, 1883. 

The  Portia  of  Miss  Ellen  Terry  was  the  best  seen 
here  for  many  years.  The  actress  caught  the  exact 
spirit  of  the  part,  and  played  it  in  the  most  brilliant 
manner.  It  is  tolerably  evident  now  that  her  strength 
lies  almost  entirely  in  the  direction  of  comedy.  In 
the  trial  scene  she  read  the  famous  "  mercy  "  speech 
with  exquisite  emphasis  and  feeling,  and  her  assump- 
tion of  manhood  was  conceived  in  the  truest  vein  of 
comedy.  It  may  almost  be  said  that  she  presented 
the  actual  Portin  whom  Shakspere  drew — a  most  win- 
ning figure  of  elegant  womanhood,  full  of  spirit,  ten- 


264  MTSS  ELLEN-   TERRY. 

derness,  and  grace.  Her  success  with  the  audience 
was  immediate,  and  her  reputation  in  England  was 
no  longer  a  matter  for  wonderment.  Her  delightful 
performance  of  this  character  will  largely  increase  the 
curiosity  to  see  her  as  Beatrice. 

J.  Ranken  Towse,  in  the  New  York  Evetiiiig  Post 
Nov.  7,  1883. 

And  of  all  the  parts  which  Miss  Terry  has  acted  vn. 
her  brilliant  career,  there  is  none  in  which  her  infinite 
powers  of  pathos,  and  her  imaginative  and  creative 
faculty  are  more  shown  than  in  her  Ophelia.  Miss 
Terry  is  one  of  those  rare  artists  who  need  for  their 
dramatic  effects  no  elaborate  dialogue,  and  for  whom 
the  simplest  words  are  sufficient.  "  I  loved  you  not," 
says  Hamlet,  and  all  that  Ophelia  answers  is,  "  I  was 
the  more  deceived."  These  are  not  very  grand  words 
to  read,  but  as  Miss  Terry  gave  them  in  acting  they 
seemed  to  be  the  highest  possible  expression  of  Ophe- 
lia's character.  Beautiful  too  was  the  quick  remorse 
she  conveyed  by  her  face  and  gesture  the  moment  she 
had  lied  to  Hnmlet  and  told  him  her  father  was  at 
home.  This  I  thought  a  masterpiece  of  good  acting, 
and  her  mad  scene  was  wonderful  beyond  all  descrip- 
tion. The  secrets  of  Melpomene  are  known  to  Miss 
Terry  as  well  as  the  secrets  of  Thalia. 

Oscar  Wilde,  in  the  Dramatic  Review^  May  9, 
1885. 


MR.  J.  L.  TOOLE. 


265 


By  England's  fireside  altar-stone, 
His  name  is  prized,  his  virtue  known  ; 
To  England's  heart  his  fame  is  dear  ; 
To  him  she  gives  her  smile,  her  tear  ; 
She  loves  him  for  his  rosy  mirth  ; 
She  loves  him  for  his  manly  worth  : 
She  knows  him  bright  as  morning  dew  •, 
She  knows  him  faithful,  tender,  true. 

William  Winter. 


266 


MR.  J.  L  TOOLE. 


John  Lawrence  Toole,  a  son  of  the  well-known 
Toastmaster  to  the  Corporation  of  London,  was  born 
in  1832.  He  began  his  business  career  as  clerk  in  a 
wine-merchant's  counting-house,  and  while  there  dis- 
played in  amateur  theatricals  a  talent  which  gained 
for  him  the  serious  encouragement  of  very  competent 
judges,  and  which  has  since  won  him  a  place  in  the 
first  rank  of  English  comedians.  His  first  appearance 
on  the  public  stage  was  made  at  Ipswich  ;  but  it  was 
at  the  Queen's  Theatre,  Dublin,  in  1852,  that  he  prac- 
tically began  his  thence  uninterrupted  professional 
career.  On  July  22  of  the  same  year  he  appeared  for 
the  first  time  on  the  London  stage  at  the  Haymarket 
as  Simmons  in  the  '  Spitalfields  Weaver.'  After  fur- 
ther provincial  experience,  he  appeared  at  the  St. 
James's  Theatre,  London,  on  Oct.  2,  1854,  as  Pepys, 
the  diarist,  in  Messrs.  Reade  and  Taylor's  '  King's 
Rival.'  In  September,  1856,  he  appeared  as  Fanfar- 
ronade  in  '  Belphegor '  at  the  Lyceum,  and  also  as 
Autolycus  in  a  burlesque  of  William  Brough's.  In 
1859  he  joined  Mr.  Webster's  company  at  the  Adelphi, 
where  he  was  the  original  \S))r/[^^/;/.y  in  T.  H.  Wil- 
liams's '  Ici  on  Parle  Frangais.'  In  i860  he  played 
at  Drury  Lane,  and  in  1862  he  appeared  at  the 
Adelphi  as  Caleb  Plmnmer,  in  Mr.  Boucicault's  version 
of  the  '  Cricket  on  the  Hearth.'     This  is  one  of  the 

267 


268  MR.   J.    L.     TOOLE. 

parts  in  which  Mr.  Toole  has  shown  a  quality  rare 
and  invaluable  in  an  actor  much  devoted  to  low 
comedy,  eccentric  comedy,  and  burlesque — that  of  a 
true  and  unforced  pathos  naturally  and  artfully  com- 
mingled with  the  grotesque  points  of  a  character. 
The  performance  is  remarkable  both  in  broadness  and 
in  fineness  of  touch,  and,  without  going  into  detailed 
criticism,  an  idea  of  it  may  be  conveyed  to  those  who 
have  not  seen  it  by  saying  that  it  is  Dickens's  Caleb 
Plummer  come  alive  upon  the  stage.  Another  suc- 
cess of  a  not  dissimilar  kind  was  made  by  the  actor  at 
the  Adelphi  as  Stephen  Digges,  in  a  play  founded  by 
Oxenford  on  the  '  Pere  Goriot '  ;  and  at  the  same 
theatre,  in  1865,  Mr.  Toole  again  showed  a  capacity 
for  playing  on  the  most  varied  emotions  in  a  part 
now  better  known  than  Stephen  Digges,  Mr.  Walter 
Gordon's  '  Through  Fire  and  Water,'  in  which  he 
played  the  principal  character,  Joe  Bright.  In  1868, 
at  the  Queen's  Theatre,  Long  Acre,  Mr.  Toole  made 
a  great  success  as  Michael  Garner,  a  part  written  to 
exhibit  his  powers  in  comic,  passionate  and  pathetic 
passages,  in  H.  J.  Byron's  *  Dearer  Than  Life.'  At 
the  same  theatre  he  played  admirably  a  purely  comic 
part  in  Messrs.  Palgrave  Simpson's  and  Herman 
Merivale's  *  Time  and  the  Hour,'  a  play  in  which  the 
late  Mr.  Alfred  Wigan  had  a  part  less  well  suited  than 
some  others  to  his  exceptionally  fine,  quiet  and  inci- 
sive style.  The  conjunction  of  the  two  actors  was 
remarkable,  in  that  each  in  his  way  represented  a 
school  which  has  been  done  away  with  by  the  changed 
condition  of  tlieatrical  affairs,  by  long  runs,  by  en- 
gagements for  the  run  of  a  piece,  by  the  dearth  of 
stock  companies,  by  the  comparatively  slight  training 


MR.   J.    L.     TOOLE.  269 

and  study  now  thought  needful  to  equip  an  actor,  and 
by  the  growing  habit  of  considering  that  a  given 
player  is  to  stick  immovably  to  a  given  line  of  busi- 
ness. Mr.  Alfred  Wigan  was  at  this  time  manager  of 
the  Queen's  Theatre.  It  was,  I  believe,  due  to  Mrs. 
Alfred  Wigan,  who  helped  her  husband  by  her  keen 
discernment  and  business  capacity,  as  well  as  by  her 
genius — for  it  was  no  less — and  art  in  acting,  that 
Mr,  Toole  was  asked  to  join  the  company  then  play- 
ing at  the  Queen's.  Mr.  Toole  has  always  been  in 
the  true,  not  the  merely  technical,  sense  of  the  word 
a  character  actor,  and  so,  within  limits  less  narrowly 
defined  than  is  generally  supposed,  was  Mr.  Alfred 
Wigan.  Both  always  thought  out  a  part  as  a  whole, 
and  not  in  respect  of  its  effective  snippets. 

Among  Mr.  Alfred  Wigan's  characteristics  were  the 
extraordinary  semblance  of  meaning,  repose,  and 
spontaneity  that  he  could  give  to  dialogue  often  worth- 
less and  jerky  in  itself,  and  in  certain  parts — one  may 
mention  such  widely  differing  ones  as  Achille  Dufard 
in  the '  First  Night '  and  John  Mildmay  in  '  Still  Waters 
Run  Deep  ' — he  has  remained  as  unapproachable  as 
in  parts  of  another  kind  Mr.  Toole  still  is.  In  one 
sense  no  two  styles  could  be  more  unlike  than  those  of 
Mr.  Alfred  Wigan  and  Mr.  Toole  ;  but  they  had  this 
important  thing  in  common,  that  both  were  formed  by 
a  method  of  learning  and  experience  now  too  seldom 
seen  by  its  fruits.  In  H.  J.  Byron's  *  Uncle  Dick's  Dar- 
ling,' at  the  Queen's,  in  1869,  Mr.  Toole  repeated  the 
same  kind  of  success  he  had  won  in  Alichael  Garner.  It 
was  at  the  same  theatre,  by  the  by,  that  he  was  of  a  pair 
as  noteworthy  in  its  way  as  the  one  already  referred  to 
when  he  appeared  as  the  Artful  Dodger  and  Mr.  Henry 


270  Mr.   j.    L.     TOOLE. 

Irving  as  Bill  Sikes  in  a  version  of  '  Oliver  Twist ' — ■ 
in  which,  also,  Mr.  Clayton  gave  a  singular  reality  and 
impressiveness  to  the  part  of  Monks  which  might  have 
been  thought  impossible.  Mr.  Irving's  performance 
was  full  of  power  and  activity  ;  and  the  type  was 
studied  both  from  Dickens  and  from  the  life.  Mr. 
Toole's  Dodger  was  not  very  like  anything  except  Mr. 
Toole  in  an  odd  dress,  but  it  was  very  funny.  From 
the  Queen's  Mr.  Toole  went  to  the  provinces  on  tour, 
and  re-appeared  in  London  at  the  Gaiety  in  1871. 
Here  he  played  many  parts  with  unvarying  success, 
among  them  Paul  Pry  in  Poole's  play,  a  part  to  which 
he  gives  the  old-fashioned  exaggeration  of  farce  with- 
out overstepping  the  artistic  limit.  In  1874  he  played 
in  Mr.  Albery's  '  Wig  and  Gown,' at  the  Globe.  In 
1875  he  sailed  for  America  ;  and  in  1879  he  re-appeared 
at  the  Folly  Theatre,  London  (which  he  managed 
himself,  and  which  he  still  manages  under  the  changed 
name  of  Toole's  Theatre),  as  Chau<les,  in  H.  J.  Byi'on's 

*  A  Fool  and  his  Money.'  Since  then  his  career  has 
been  as  familiar  as  it  has  been  deservedly  popular. 
Mr.  Burnand's  'Artful  Cards'  and  Mr.  Hollingshead's 

*  Birthplace  of  Podgers  '  haVe  been  among  his  most 
successful  reproductions  ;  he  has  produced  some  inim- 
itable burlesques  by  Mr.  Burnand,  and  has  given  to  the 
stage  a  very  funny  play, '  Going  It,'  by  the  veteran  Mr. 
Maddison  Morton  and  a  younger  collaborator.  He 
has  given  an  imitation  of  Mr.  Sims  Reeves  i'ln  Mr. 
Burnand's  *  Faust  and  Loose  ')  absolutely  astonishing 
in  its  personal  and  vocal  likeness  ;  and  in  other  bur- 
lesques from  the  same  hand  he  has  given  imitations  less 
close  and  less  artistic,  but  very  amusing,  of  Mr.  Wilson 
Barrett,  Mr.  Coghlan,  and   M.  Marais,  of  '  Theodora ' 


MR.    J.    L.     TOOLE.  27 1 

fame.  He  has  made  the  town  laugh  with  the  song  of 
the  '  Speaker's  Eye  '  in  '  Mr.  Guffin's  Elopement,'  and 
he  has  introduced  and  kept  on  his  stage  some  excel- 
lent actors,  of  whom,  among  those  still  with  him  at 
the  date  of  writing,  one  may  mention  especially  Miss 
Emily  Thorne,  Mr.  E.  D.  Ward,  of '  Theodora  '  fame. 
Miss  Eliza  Johnston,  and  Mr.  Shelton.  He  has  not 
perhaps  given  in  enough  to  a  changed  taste  in  the 
matter  of  decors  for  drawing-room  plays  ;  but  his  mise- 
en-sc^ne  is  always  excellent  in  the  end,  if  sometimes 
insufficiently  rehearsed  before  a  first  night,  and  in  the 
matter  of  trick  scenes  for  burlesques  he  has  done  won- 
ders with  the  small  space  at  his  disposal.  Trick 
scenes  suggest  what  is  loosely  called  jugglery,  be- 
cause mechanical  contrivance  is  frequently,  though  in 
strict  wrongness,  associated  with  that  word,  and  in 
slight-of-hand  Mr.  Toole  has  considerable  skill  which 
he  has  several  times  utilized  in  burlesque  parts. 

As  an  actor,  Mr.  Toole,  at  his  best,  has  no  rival,  in 
his  own  way  ;  and  his  range,  as  has  been  shown,  is  very 
far  from  being  limited.  When  he  chooses  to  person- 
ate a  part  which  falls  within  this  range,  one  recognizes 
in  him  both  art  and  genius.  When,  in  the  ordinary 
use  of  the  word,  he  acts  a  part,  without  making  a  con- 
sistent impersonation  of  it  from  first  to  last,  one  ad- 
mires a  very  unusual,  natural  aptitude,  backed  by  a 
thorough  knowledge  of  the  stage  and  its  ways  ;  and 
when  it  pleases  him  to  be  simply  Mr.  Toole  in  this  or 
that  make-up  or  dress,  bent  on  amusing,  who  can  help 
being  amused?  He  gags  freely,  but  only  in  his 
lighter  efforts,  and  never  without  effect.  His  posi- 
tion on  the  stage  is  unique,  and  admirably  well  earned. 
Walter  Herries  Pollock. 


272  MR.    /.     Z.     TOOLE. 

Towards  the  close  of  an  autumnal  day  in  1838,  Mr. 
E.  L.  Blanchard,  happening  to  pass  through  Shorne,  a 
village  about  four  miles  from  Gravesend,  came  upon  the 
oddest  group  imaginable.  "  A  little  boy,  scarcely  six 
years  of  age,  was  the  centre,"  we  are  told,  "  of  an  ad- 
miring throng  of  urchins,  who  seemed  to  be  in  the 
most  exuberant  state  of  delight  at  each  fresh  comi- 
cality of  the  entertainment,  which  seemed  to  consist 
"of  an  imitation  of  a  farm-yard,  with  a  few  voices  dex- 
terously thrown  in.  It  was  over  before  I  could  dis- 
cover the  reason  for  the  merry  peals  of  childish 
laughter  which  had  reached  me  ;  but  in  a  few  moments 
the  extremely  juvenile  monologist  recommenced  his 
performance  without  becoming  aware  of  another  being 
added  to  the  audience.  A  dexterous  -re-arrangement 
of  his  pinafore,  a  twist  of  his  child's  cap,  and  a  small 
stick  snatched  from  the  hedge,  and  there  was  the  minia- 
ture figure  of  an  old  man  tottering  rather  than  tod- 
dling about  the  garden  ;  the  few  words  uttered  in 
simulated  tones  serving  to  identify  a  resemblance 
which  evidently  left  the  diminutive  spectators  in  no 
doubt  as  to  the  fidelity  of  the  likeness.  Then  came  a 
change  of  face,  another  readjustment  of  the  pinafore, 
and  an  altered  tone,  with  a  word  and  a  whistle  given 
by  turns.  This  was  quickly  accepted  as  a  faithful 
portraiture  of  a  comic  countryman  well-known  to  the 
highly  appreciative  little  assembly,  and  tiny  hands 
were  clasped  gleefully  as  the  voice  of  the  rustic,  simu- 
lated in  childish  treble,  was  heard  to  proclaim  the 
necessity  of  giving  something  to  an  old  gray  mare. 
In  answer  to  my  inquiry  as  to  the  name  of  the  amus- 
ingly precocious  young  gentleman,  a  giggling  damsel, 
scarcely  ten,  lisped  out,  '  It's  only  a  little  London  boy 


MR.   J.    L.     TOOLE.  273 

down  for  his  health,  sir.'  "  That  little  London  boy 
was  John  Lawrence  Toole.  Mr.  Toole's  natural  tai- 
euts  as  a  humorous  and  pathetic  actor  have  been  de- 
veloped as  much  by  study  of  books  and  of  men  as  by 
practical  experience.  He  is  to  the  stage  what  Hogarth 
was  in  painting,  and  Dickens  in  the  literature  of  fiction. 
He  draws  his  inspiration  from  the  life  of  persons  about 
him,  mentally  taking  notes  of  anything  that  may  aid 
him  in  the  delineation  of  special  types  of  character. 
He  often  approaches  and  sometimes  oversteps  the 
verge  of  caricature,  but  is  in  no  sense  a  caricaturist. 
"There  is  a  geniality  about  his  performances,"  Lord 
Rosebery  once  said,  "  which  spreads  an  electric  chain 
about  his  audiences,  and  makes  them  forget  the  actor 
in  the  friend.  He  possesses  the  magic  and  irresistible 
power  of  creative  sympathy.  No  young  man  of  my 
age  has  spent  more  money  in  stalls  than  I  have  to  see 
him."  In  all  the  relations  of  private  life,  it  should  be 
added,  Mr.  Toole  has  never  incurred  reproach,  and  no 
member  of  his  profession  has  given  away  more  in 
public  and  private  charity  than  he.  "  I  may  say," 
wrote  the  manager  of  an  asylum  for  the  insane  in  an 
annual  report,  "  that  the  considerate  kindness  which 
compelled  Mr.  Toole  to  step  aside  from  his  pressing 
engagements,  and  request  the  privilege  of  again  enter- 
taining our  people  and  pouring  oil  into  their  mental 
wounds,  entitles  him  to  a  place  in  our  hearts  as  the 
*  good  Samaritan  '  of  the  stage." 
The  Theatre,  London,  Oct.  i,  1879. 

That  Mr.  J.  L.  Toole,  as  Joe  Bright,  would  repre- 
sent to  perfection  the  honest  plebeian,  good  at  heart, 
and  thick  of  head,  might  easily  be  foreseen  ;  but  there 


274  MR.    /.    L.     TOOLE. 

is  novelty  in  the  drunken  outburst  that  brings  the  first 
act  to  its  close.  Droll  inebriety  is  common  enough 
upon  the  stage,  and  Mr.  B.  Webster  in  '  Janet  Pride' 
gives  an  admirable  picture  of  the  habitual  drunken- 
ness by  which  a  man  endeavors  to  silence  the  voice 
of  an  evil  conscience.  But  the  effect  of  ardent  spirits 
rapidly  imbibed  by  a  man  who  is  already  distressed  in 
mind,  and  who  is  suddenly  converted  from  a  compar- 
atively rational  being  into  an  ungovernable  savage, 
ready  to  commit  any  deed  of  violence,  has  been  sel- 
dom, if  ever,  represented,  and  Mr.  Toole  has  never 
more  forcibly  displayed  his  faculty  for  profitable  obser- 
vation than  in  his  terrific  exhibition  of  this  peculiar 
phase  of  human  frailty. 

The  Times,  London,  July  3,  1868. 

There  is  no  gift  of  the  actor  of  low  comedy  which 
Mr.  Toole  does  not  possess  in  a  high  degree.  His 
individuality  is  as  comic  as  that  of  the  best  of  his  pre- 
decessors ;  his  vitality  is  as  unflagging  as  theirs  ;  his 
method  as  irregular  and  as  effective.  Like  them,  he 
is  exuberant,  untiring,  irrepressible  ;  an  actor  off  the 
stage  as  much  as  upon  it ;  drawing  from  a  species  of 
imagination  rules  fitted  only  for  guidance  upon  an 
occasion,  and  wholly  unsuited  for  codification  in  any 
manual  of  art ;  holding  of  a  part,  as  lawyers  maintain 
of  a  case,  that  each  carries  its  own  law.  Like  them, 
too,  he  has  won  a  purely  personal  affection  and 
regard  that  extends  far  beyond  the  range  of  those  to 
whom  he  is  known,  and  embraces  most  lovers  of 
laughter  and  innocent  enjoyment. 

It  is,  however,  as  a  broadly  comic  actor  his  chief 
reputation  has  been  made,  and  it  is  in  connection  with 


MR.    J.    L.     TOOLE.  275 

low  comedy  his  name  will  descend  to  future  genera- 
tions. Mr.  Toole  is  unequalled  in  the  expression  of 
comic  bewilderment.  Unlike  some  of  the  best  remem- 
bered of  his  predecessors  who  assumed,  in  face  of 
difficulty,  a  stolidity  against  which  fate  itself  seemed 
powerless,  he  contrives  to  add  to  his  comic  perplexities 
by  his  own  apparent  quickness  of  invention.  He  is 
always  ready  with  an  explanation  which  is  invariably 
wrong,  and  thus,  like  Chaos  in  'Paradise  Lost,'  he 

By  decision  more  embroils  the  fray. 
His  vulgarity  upon  the  stage  is  like  ^his  perplexity  in 
the  total  absence  of  stupidity.  In  Chawles  he 
presents  a  footman  who  has  inherited  wealth  and 
made  a  bid  for  position.  No  type  of  vulgarity  can  be 
more  familiar  than  this.  In  watching,  however,  the 
difficulties  and  entanglements  brought  upon  the 
would-be  aristocrat  by  his  ignorance  of  the  manners 
and  modes  of  speech  of  those  with  and  among  whom 
he  seeks  to  live,  we  are  more  impressed  by  the 
ingenuity  of  the  interpretation  he  fixes  upon  what  is 
unfamiliar,  than  tickled  by  its  absurdity.  A  certain 
element  of  manlmess,  so  to  speak,  enters  into  his 
farce.  Paul  Fry  even,  the  most  contemptible  of 
busybodies,  and  the  most  incurable  of  sneaks,  is  not 
in  his  hands  wholly  despicable.  If  nobody  else 
believes  in  him,  he  believes  in  himself,  and  he  acts  up 
to  his  own  code,  such  as  it  is.  In  Chaw/cs,  in 
Spnggins,  and  in  the  Spitalfields  Weaver,  the  manliness 
forms  a  distinct  feature.  A  conscience  is  preserved 
through  the  wildest  extravagances,  and  in  the  expo- 
sition of  a  preposterous  vanity,  and  in  the  pursuit 
of  an  unsanctified  gain,  he  still  retains  a  measure  of 
our  respect. 


276  MR.   J.    L.     TOOLE. 

Mr.  Toole's  position  as  an  actor  of  low  comedy  and 
as  a  humorist  is  now  secure.  He  is  not  free  from  the 
faults  of  his  craft ;  and  the^means  he  adopts  to  force 
a  laugh  are  not  always  artistic.  There  is,  however, 
behind  these  things,  a  rich,  ripe,  overflowing  nature, 
which  is  sure  to  tell  in  the  end,  and  the  memory  of 
extravagance  in  method  is  blotted  out  as  soon  as  the 
**  touch  of  nature "  is  felt.  Geniality,  joyousness, 
emotion,  are  Mr.  Toole's  own  in  an  enviable  degree. 
His  heart  is  in  his  work,  and  he  is  badly  fitted  indeed 
with  a  part  if  the  note  of  sympathy  is  not  struck  in 
the  audience. 

Joseph  Knight,  in  the  Theatre,  January,  1880. 

When  I  was  playing  in  Byron's  drama,  '  Uncle 
Dick's  Darling,'  at  the  Gaiety  Theatre,  my  dear  old 
friend,  J.  L.  Toole,  was  the  bright,  particular  star  of 
that  entertainment,  and  Adelaide  Neilson  was  the 
Darling.  Now  my  friend  Toole,  among  many  brilliant 
qualities,  has  a  notable  faculty  for  business,  and  in  the 
invention  of  captivating  posters  and  insinuating  hand- 
bills he  had  at  that  time  no  equal.  Pray  don't  think 
that  he  cares  for  such  arts  now,  for  he  long  ago  dis- 
covered their  vanity  when  after  playing  for  a  week  in 
a  certain  place,  he  met  the  local  bill  printer — to  whom 
he  had  paid  a  lot  of  money — and  who  greeted  him 
with  "  Hello  Mr.  Toole  !  how  long  have  you  been 
here?"  Still,  before  this  awakening,  his  activity  in 
advertising  was  extreme.  One  of  his  rivals — an  emi- 
nent tragedian — was  once  much  moved,  when  leaving 
a  town,  to  find  his  posters  covered  with  the  announce- 
ment, "  Toole  is  coming  !  "  and  the  climax  of  torment 
was  reached  when,  going  to  bed  that  night,  he  found 


MR.    J.    L.     TOOLE.  277 

this  stimulating  legend  pinned  on  his  pillow.  Well, 
my  indefatigable  friend  was  not  content  with  playing 
superbly  in  '  Uncle  Dick's  Darling.'  He  busied  him- 
self with  all  manner  of  devices  to  popularize  the 
performance.  He  never  went  anywhere  without  a 
bundle  of  labels  in  his  pocket,  and,  if  he  happened  to 
be  in  church,  or  a  police  court,  or  any  other  place  of 
fashionable  resort,  he  was  sure  to  leave  behind  him  a 
touching  memento,  sticking  in  some  prominent  place, 
to  the  effect  that  J.  L.  Toole  was  to  be  seen  at  the 
Gaiety  Theatre  in  '  Uncle  Dick's  Darling '  every 
evening.  And  I  have  lately  been  credibly  informed 
that  one  of  these  labels  pleasantly  adorns  the  tombs  of 
the  Pharaohs. 

About  this  time  died  William  Brough,  one  of  the 
well-known  brothers  who  did  so  much  good  work  for 
the  stage  and  periodical  literature.  No  doubt  you  have 
read  the  genial  recollections  of  them  in  Edmund 
Yates's  '  Reminiscences.'  To  poor  William  Brough's 
funeral,  in  a  cemetery  a  little  way  out  of  London, 
Toole  and  I  repaired  one  cold  and  drizzly  afternoon — 
just  the  kind  of  day  when  the  gloomy  reminder  that 
we  are  all  mortal  becomes  most  oppressive.  We  saw 
our  dear,  dead  friend  laid  in  the  earth  and  as  we 
turned  away,  wondering  whose  scene  with  the  grave- 
digger  would  come  next,  the  prosaic  suggestion  was 
made  that  perhaps  some  degree  of  physical  comfort 
might  be  got  out  of  a  little  hot  brandy  and  water. 
This  idea  was  embraced  with  alacrity,  and  while  we 
were  thus  consoling  ourselves  in  a  neighboring  inn, 
our  attention  was  attracted  by  a  crowd  surrounding 
an  object  lying  in  the  gutter.  My  friend's  fertile 
brain  was  awake  at  once,  so  we  quickly  made  our  way 


278  MR.  J.    L.     TOOLE. 

to  the  spot,  and  found  that  some  too-thirsty  soul, 
tempted  by  a  barrel  of  spirits  which  had  burst  in  the 
street,  had  drunk  not  wisely,  but  too  well. 

The  crowd  stood  gazing  at  the  body  in  a  helpless 
way,  but  my  companion  knew  his  cue  at  once.  Push- 
ing his  way  through  the  throng — followed  by  me,  his 
admiring  assistant — and  suggesting  that  he  was  a 
doctor,  he  knelt  beside  the  fallen  reveller,  whose  shirt- 
collar  he  unbuttoned,  felt  his  pulse,  laid  a  hand  on  his 
heart,  and  performed  with  impressive  accuracy  the 
whole  professional  routine.  The  people  watched  the 
process  with  sympathy  and  confidence,  and,  when  my 
friend  said,  "  It's  not  very  serious  ;  I  can  soon  put 
him  right  again,"  there  was  a  hum  of  approval  and  ad- 
miration. Feeling  in  one  of  his  pockets,  the  "  doctor  " 
took  out  something,  which  he  applied  to  the  patient's 
forehead.  From  another  pocket  he  produced  some- 
thing else,  and  applied  to  one  cheek,  while  a  third 
pocket  yielded,  a  further  medicament  for  the  other 
cheek.  Then,  looking  round  with  a  thoughtful  and 
abstracted  air,  one  hand  covering  the  face  of  the 
patient,  with  the  other  he  removed  a  cap  from  the 
head  of  a  gaping  and  bewildered  boy,  and  dexterously 
placed  it  on  the  beplastered  visage  of  the  prostrate 
Briton.  **  Now,"  said  he,  triumphantly,  '*  leave  him 
alone  for  five  minutes,  and  Richard's  himself  again  !  " 
We  then  withdrew  and  with  some  celerity  jumped  into 
a  cab,  followed  by  a  suppressed  cheer.  But  we  had 
not  proceeded  far  when  a  yell  of  execration  broke 
upon  our  ears,  for  the  impatient  crowd  had  found  that 
the  object  of  their  commiseration  was  no  less  a  per- 
son than  "  '  Uncle  Dick's  Darling,'  Gaiety  Theatre 
every  evening ! " 


Henry  Irving,  in  the  'Clover  Leaves.' 


MR.    J.    L.  .TOOLE.  279 

One  night,  after  12  o'clock,  Toole  and  Sothern  took 
possession  of  the  porter's  room  at  Humman's  Hotel 
and  sent  the  porter  to  the  top  of  the  house  to  find  Billy- 
Florence,  who  was  supposed  to  be  a  guest  there. 
Meanwhile  the  pair  undertook  to  attend  personally  to 
the  wants  of  the  strangers  who  were  stopping  at  the 
hotel,  and  came  to  the  wicket  to  demand  admittance. 
It  must  be  understood  that  the  wicket  was  only  large 
enough  to  expose  a  single  face.  The  first  to  present 
himself  was  a  clergyman,  who  was  very  gravely  in- 
formed by  Toole  that  his  "  attentions  to  the  chamber- 
maid had  been  discovered,  and  that  he  would  find 
his  trunk  in  the  morning  at  Covent  Garden  Market 
opposite  ;  that  this  was  a  respectable  house  and  he 
didn't  wish  any  thing  more  to  do  with  such  a  man." 
While  the  clergyman  in  his  indignation  was  absent  in 
Bow  Street  to  hunt  up  a  police  officer  and  make  his 
troubles  known,  the  proprietor  of  the  hotel  appeared 
and  was  promptly  notified  by  Sothern,  who  now 
appeared  at  the  wicket,  that  they  had  "  already  missed 
enough  spoons  during  his  visit  and  that  his  valise 
would  be  thrown  down  to  him  in  a  few  minutes,  from 
the  top  story,  and  if  he  wished  to  avoid  Newgate  he 
had  better  reform  his  practices  or  try  them  upon  some 
other  hotel."  This  joke  would  have  had  rather  a 
serious  termination  if  the  proprietor  had  not  entered 
by  a  side  door  and  discovered  Toole  and  Sothern  at 
their  pranks,  from  the  rear  ;  but  as  soon  as  lie  found 
out  who  they  were,  he  was  so  overjoyed  at  the  pres- 
ence of  two  such  worthies  in  his  house  and  the  oddity 
of  the  jokes  they  had  played  that  he  ordered  one  of 
the  best  of  hot  suppers,  sent  for  Billy  Florence,  and 
kept  things  going  on  in  a  lively  way  until  morning. 

Stephen  Fiske,  in  'Birds  of  a  Feather,'//.  132-4. 


28o  MR.   j.  ■  L.     TOOLE. 

Johnny,  as  he  is  affectionately  denominated  by  high 
and  low,  has  a  hand-shake,  an  appropriate  jest,  or  a 
"  shove  in  the  mouth "  for  prince  or  costermonger. 
And  so,  in  a  popular  pursuit  of  thirty  years,  he  has 
won  a  welcome  in  the  palace  as  warm  as  he  gets  in  the 
slums.  Won  ?  Yes,  and  he  has  achieved  this  end  by 
indefatigable  labor  inside  and  outside  the  theatre,  and 
by  the  never-tiring  aid  of  the  good  genius  in  the  shape 
of  a  lanky,  slab-sided  elder  brother,  known  as  "  the 
long  Toole." 

Yes!  "The  long  one  and  the  short,"  some  thirty 
years  ago,  began  their  theatrical  prospecting  for  gold 
at  a  small  amateur  theatre  in  North  London,  where 
various  sums  were  paid  to  a  knowing  old  bird  manager 
by  the  aspirants  for  the  privilege  of  disporting  them- 
selves, under  his  tutelage,  for  the  diversion  of  their 
acquaintance.  The  plays  were  generally  ambitious 
and  blood-curdling,  and  the  characters  distributed 
more  in  accordance  with  the  funds  of  the  parties  than 
their  histrionic  capacities.  The  Duke  of  Gloster  was 
always  worth  "  one  pound  ten  "  ;  Buckingham  went  for 
five  shillings,  and  such  parts  as  Cateshy  or  RntcUffe 
might  have  been  had  as  low  as  eighteen  pence.  From 
such  dramatic  incubators  many  of  our  best  actors  have 
issued,  and  the  "elder  Toole,"  discovering  that  all 
the  talent  of  the  family  lay  in  "  the  younger,"  wisely 
abandoned  the  boards  personally  and  set  himself 
thenceforth  the  task  of  booming  Brother  John  into 
reputation 

During  a  second  season  at  the  Lyceum,  Toole  was 
fortunate  enough  to  catch  a  terrible  cold.  It  caused 
him  much  anxiety,  as  he  had  speedily  to  assume  a  new 
character  in  another  extravaganza  by  Brough.     At  the 


MR.    j.    L.     TOOLS:. 


281 


last  rehearsal,  his  voice  was  so  raucous  and  rugged 
that,  in  despair,  he  anticipated  inevitable  failure.  The 
part  of  Birbanto,  in  *  Conrad  and  Medora,'  was  sup- 
posed to  be  a  satire  on  the  ruffians  of  transpontine 
drama,  and  it  so  fell  out,  through  the  wil)^  "  Long 
One,"  that  the  critics,  one  and  all,  supposed  the 
hoarse,  croaking  voice  art  assumption,  and  one  of 
them  (Albert  Smith)  pronounced  it  a  "  real  stroke  of 
genius."  So  that  his  attack  of  catarrh  lifted  him  to 
the  top  of  prosperity. 

When  Wright  died,  Toole  was  engaged  to  fill  his 
place  at  the  Adelphi,  and  then  he  had  the  luck  to 
meet  a  clever  tailor  who  cut  his  clothes  to  fit  him  to  a 
nicety.  H.  J.  Byron  was  the  histrionic  Poole  and 
while  he  lived  Toole  always  had  a  dramatic  outfit 
which  suited  him  to   perfection. 

'Uncle  Dick's  Darling 'and  similar  plays,  with 
which  Adelaide  Neilson,  Irving,  Lionel  Brough,  and 
other  eminent  artists  were  associated,  were  the  suc- 
cessful pieces  which  successively  added  to  his  reputa- 
tion and  his  bank  account,  until  now  he  owns  his  own 
theatre,  playing  there  every  season,  yet  never  forget- 
ful of  his  first  country  friends,  but  duly  and  every  year 
paying  them  a  flying  visit.  I  must  not  forget  a  pretty 
incident  that  occurred  at  the  Adelphi.  It  was  in  a 
version  of  the  '  Christmas  Carol,'  and  on  the  table  was 
a  supper — a  veritable  supper — with  a  genuine  roast 
goose.  It  was  remarked  that  the  little  girl  who  acted 
Tiny  Tim  possessed  powers  of  demolition  out  of  all 
proportion  to  her  avoirdupois,  and  she  was  curiously 
observed.  With  a  dexterity  equal  to  Kellar's,  she  was 
seen  to  transfer  a  leg,  a  wing,  and  other  tidbits  to  the 
pockets  of  her  panfs  ;  but  when  she  confessed  they 


202  MR.  J.    L.     7'OOLE. 

were  secreted  for  a  half-starved  and  bedridden  little 
sister,  deep  sympathy  went  along  with  the  goose  and 
stuffing.  When  Toole  told  Dickens  the  story — "Bless 
her,"  he  said,  "she  deserved  the  whole  bird  !  " 

George  Fawcett  Rowe,  in  the  New  York  World, 
March  7,  1886. 


MR.  LESTER  WALLACK. 


283 


The  "  Mr.  Lester  "  of  the  long  ago 

Is  prince  of  light  comedians  even  now. 

Albeit  years  will  do  what  they  are  bid, 

**  Time  writes  no  wrinkle  " — that  may  not  be  hid. 

And  so  there  still  survive  the  handsome  face, 

The  voice  of  music  and  the  step  of  grace. 

The  play  of  wit ;  the  gesture  eloquent, 

The  charm  of  blended  mirth  and  sentiment  ; 

The  speech  refined,  the  easy  elegance. 

The  fine  resource,  the  swift  intelligence, — 

All  these  remain,  as  salient  as  of  old, 

And  long  in  stage  tradition  will  be  told. 

Though  Percy  Ardent  no^  is  lost  to  sight, 

And  Harry  Dornton  is  forgotten  quite, 

Those  youthful  heroes  live  and  breathe  to-day 

In  Captain  Absolute  and  Elliott  Gray. 

Never  can  lag  superfluous  on  the  stage 

This  famous  son  of  honored  lineage. 

Long  be  the  day  when  Time  his  debt  shall  claim, 

And  Lester  Wallack  leave  to  lasting  fame. 

William  L.  Keese. 


284 


MR.  LESTER  WALLACK. 


It  is  seldom  that  an  actor  can  look  back  to  such  a 
dramatic  lineage  as  that  of  John  Lester  Wallack. 
On  the  maternal  side  he  would  naturally  inherit  the 
sensitive,  sprightly  temperament,  the  romantic  fancy, 
the  tender  heart  and  the  personal  elegance  and  dash 
that  are  characteristic  of  the  Celtic  nature  at  its  best. 
In  the  grandson  of  "  Irish  Johnston  "  these  qualities 
would  be  expected  ;  and  those  who  know  Mr.  Wal- 
lack, whether  as  actor  or  man,  are  aware  that  he 
possesses  them.  On  the  paternal  side  his  inheritance 
was  even  richer  in  the  attributes  that  constitute  a 
sturdy  and  brilliant  character,  a  commanding  mind, 
and  a  noble  person.  His  father  was,  assuredly,  a 
great  actor,  in  both  comedy  and  tragedy,  but  espe- 
cially in  comedy.  His  paternal  grandfather,  Wil- 
liam Wallack,  was  distinguished  on  the  stage,  both 
as  a  singer  and  a  comedian  (his  impersonation  of  the 
English  sailor  was  famous,  and  the  popular  nautical 
song  entitled,  '*  Bound  'Prentice  to  a  Waterman  " 
was  written  expressly  for .  him  to  sing)  ;  while  his 
paternal  grandmother,  Elizabeth  Field,  was  so  good 
an  actress  that  she  had  played  in  association  with 
Garrick.  John  Lester  Wallack,  eldest  child  of  James 
William  Wallack,  the  celebrated  founder  of  Wallack's 
Theatre,  was  born  in  New  York,  on  Jan.  i,  1820,  but 
in  his  infancy  was  taken  to  the  home  of  his  parents, 

285 


286  MR.  LESTER    WALLACK. 

in  London — for  the  elder  Wallack  had  not  yet  settled 
in  America— and  there  he  was  reared,  and  there  he 
passed  his  youth  and  received  his  education.  The 
profession  chosen  for  him  was  the  army  ;  but,  after 
fitting  himself  for  entrance  on  a  military  career,  and 
after  receiving  a  commission,  he  became  discouraged 
in  viewing  the  crowded  state  of  the  service,  and  at 
length  yielded  to  the  earnest  request  of  his  mother 
that  he  would  relinquish  this  pursuit.  He  had  been 
about  to  join  the  army  in  India;  but  instead  of  this 
he  crossed  over  to  Dublin  and  went  upon  the  stage. 
His  early  ambition  as  an  actor  was  to  emulate  Tyrone 
Power  and  enact  Irish  gentlemen  in  comedy  and  also 
in  the  rattling  Irish  farces  which  then  were  popular. 
His  first  regular  professional  appearance  was  made  at 
Dublin,  as  Don  Pedro  in  '  Much  Ado  About  Nothing,' 
and  in  that  city  he  remained  for  two  seasons.  He  was 
about  twenty-four  years  old  when  he  first  appeared, 
and  he  was  accounted  one  of  the  handsomest  young 
fellows  of  the  day.  From  Dublin  he  drifted  to  Edin- 
burgh, and  at  length,  on  Nov.  26,  1846,  he  came  out 
in  London.  His  appearance  was  made  at  the  Hay- 
market,  under  Benjamin  Webster's  management. 
There  he  was  seen  by  an  American  manager's  agent, 
who  had  come  over  to  London  to  engage  actors  for 
the  Broadway  Theatre,  New  York,  and  by  him  he 
was  engaged  and  brought  back  to  America  in  1847. 

It  was  in  the  old  Broadway  Theatre,  and  on  the 
opening  night  of  its  first  season,  that  Mr.  Wallack 
made  his  first  appearance  in  America.  That  theatre 
stood  in  Broadway,  on  the  East  Side,  between  Pearl 
Street  and  Anthony  Street,  the  latter  being  now  called 
Worth    Street.      The   proprietor  was   Alvah   Mann. 


MR.  LESTER    WALLA CK.  287 

The  acting  manager  was  George  H.  Barrett.  This 
house  was  opened  on  Sept.  27,  1847,  with  the  '  School 
for  Scandal  '  and  '  Used  Up.'  [It  had  a  career  of  ten 
years  and  a  half,  closing  on  April  2,  1858,  with  Shak- 
spere's  '  Antony  and  Cleopatra,'  in  which  the  two 
great  parts  were  acted  by  Edward  Eddy  and  Mme. 
Ponisi.]  In  the  first  company  were  Henry  Wallack 
(Lester's  uncle,  the  father  of  James  W.  Wallack,  jr.), 
George  Barrett,  Rose  Telbin,  Fanny  Wallack,  Mrs. 
Winstanley,  Mrs.  Watts,  Mr.  Vache,  Mr.  H.  Lynne 
and  Mr.  J.  M.  Dawson,  together  with  others  of 
excellence  and  worthy  distinction.  W.  R.  Blake 
joined  it  later,  and  was  the  stage  manager.  It  was  a 
remarkable  company.  Mr.  Wallack  then,  and  for  a 
long  time  afterward,  acted  under  the  name  of  **  Mr. 
Lester."  The  first  character  that  he  represented 
here  was  Sir  Charles  Coldstream  in  *  Used  Up.'  The 
second  was  the  Viscount  de  Ligny  in  the  '  Captain  of 
the  Watch.'  They  never  have  had  a  better  repre- 
sentative. Mr.  Wallack  is  pre-eminent,  beyond 
rivalry,  in  precisely  the  field  of  polished  elegance  of 
manner,  cool  repose  of  temperament,  and  easy  and 
incessant  brilliancy  of  style  denoted  in  these  parts. 

The  career  of  Lester  Wallack  on  the  American 
stage  has  (1886)  extended  over  a  period  of  thirty- 
nine  years.  When  he  made  his  first  appearance  in 
New  York  he  was  in  his  twenty- eighth  year.  Prior  to 
the  establishment  of  "  Wallack's  Theatre,"  he  acted 
in  the  Broadway  Theatre,  the  Bowery  Theatre,  Bur- 
ton's Theatre,  Niblo's  Garden  and  Brougham's 
Lyceum.  His  first  appearance  in  the  old  Bowery 
Theatre,  with  which  house  his  name  is  associated 
in  the  memory  of  many  old  residents  of   New  York, 


288  MR.  LESTER    WALLACK. 

was  made  as  Don  Ccesar  de  £azan,  on  Sept.  17,  1849  '. 
and  there  he  participated,  with  great  success,  in 
various  melodramas.  His  first  performance  of 
,  Z>' Artagnan  was  given  at  the  Bowery,  in  a  play  that 
'  he  himself  had  made,  upon  the  basis  of  Dumas' 
romance.  In  1850  he  joined  Burton's  Theatre,  which 
then  had  taken  the  lead  in  New  York  theatrical  life — 
with  a  company  that  included  Burton,  Blake,  George 
Jordan,  Humphrey  Bland,  Tom  Johnston,  Mrs. 
Russell  (now  Mrs.  Hoey),  Mrs.  Skerrett,  Mrs. 
Hughes,  Miss  Hill  (afterwards  Mrs.  W.  E.  Burton), 
Julia  Daly,  and  Lizzie  Weston  (afterwards  the  wife  of 
A.  H.  Davenport,  and  now  the  widow  of  Charles 
Mathews).  Burton's  Theatre  in  Chambers  Street — a 
famous  place — had  been  "  Palmo's  Opera  House." 
Burton  opened  it,  under  the  name  of  "Burton's 
Theatre,"  on  July  10,  1848.  Lester  was,  during  that 
season,  at  the  Broadway,  where  he  appeared  Nov.  6, 
1848.     In  1849  he  acted  at  the  Bowery.     On  Sept.  2, 

1850,  he  played  in  Burton's  Theatre,  and  on  May  3, 

185 1,  he  was  at  Niblo's,  under  Burton's  management, 
that  actor  having  come  up  from  Chambers  Street  with 
his  famous  company,  and  augmented  it  ;  so  that  now 
it  consisted  of  Burton,  Henry  Placide,  W.  R.  Blake, 
John  Lester,  John  Sefton,  Humphrey  Bland,  J.  D. 
Grace,  Holman,  Skerrett,  Moore,  J.  Dunn,  Mrs.  J.  W. 
Wallack,  Mrs.  Hughes,  Mrs.  Skerrett,  Mrs.  Sefton, 
Mrs.  Holman  and  Miss  Hill  (who  was  soon  announced 
as  Burton's  wife).  In  the  summer  of  1851  Lester 
visited  Europe,  but  he  returned  in  the  fall,  and  on 
Oct.  20  re-appeared  at  Burton's  Theatre,  acting 
Citizen  Sangfroid. 

When   the   elder  Wallack   had   founded  Wallack's 


MR.  LESTER    WALLACK.  289 

Theatre,  Lester,  of  course,  associated  his  fortunes, 
finally  and  for  life,  with  that  house.  Wallack's 
Theatre,  at  Broome  Street  and  Broadway,  was  opened 
with  Morton's  comedy  of  the  '  Way  to  Get  Married.' 
Lester  played  Tangent,  and  he  was  stage  manager  of 
the  new  theatre.  The  company  included,  besides  his 
father  and  himself,  Blake,  John  Brougham,  Charles 
Walcot,  Charles  Kemble  Mason,  Charles  Hale,  F. 
Chippendale,  Malvina  Pray  (now  Mrs.  W.  J.  Florence), 
Miss  J.  Gould,  Mrs.  Stephens,  Mrs.  C.  Hale,  Mrs. 
Brougham,  Mrs.  Cramer,  and,  at  first,  Laura  Keene, 
who,  unfortunately  for  herself,  soon  seceded.  The 
Broadway  and  Broome  Street  Wallack's  lasted  from 
Sept.  8,  1852,  till  Sept.  25,  1861,  when  Wallack's  was 
opened  (with  Tom  Taylor's  play  of  the  '  New  Presi- 
dent,' in  which  Lester  acted  De  la  Rainpe),  at  the 
northeast  corner  of  Broadway  and  Thirteenth  Street. 
On  Christmas  Day,  1864,  the  elder  Wallack  died,  and 
Lester  Wallack  inherited  the  theatre.  Years  passed 
away,  and — borne  along  upon  the  tide  which  has  been 
so  steadily  advancing  northward  in  Manhattan  Island 
— Wallack's  Theatre  was  opened  on  Jan.  4,  1882, 
where  it  now  stands,  at  the  northeast  corner  of  Broad- 
way and  Thirtieth  Street.  At  each  of  these  places 
Mr.  Wallack's  brilliant  powers  have  been  exerted,  not 
less  to  the  public  delight  than  to  noble  illustration  of 
the  actor's  art.  Down  to  1861  he  maintained  in  the 
play-bills  the  style  of  "  Mr.  Lester  "  ;  but  when  the 
theatre  was  opened  at  Thirteenth  Street  he  was 
announced  for  the  first  time  as  Lester  Wallack. 

Mr.  Wallack  is  the  author  of  several  plays,  each  of 
which,  when  first  presented,  met  with  unequivocal  suc- 
cess, and  three  of  which  have  several  times  been  pros- 


290  ^^-  IE S  TEH    rVALLACit. 

perously  revived.     The  following  is  a  list  of  his  dra- 
matic productions  : 

1.  The  '  Three  Guardsmen.'  Produced  at  the 
Sowery  Theatre,  Nov.  12,  1849. 

2.  The  '  Four  Musketeers.'  Produced  at  the 
Bowery  Theatre,  Dec.  24,  1849. 

3.  The'  Fortune  of  War.'  Produced  at  Brougham's 
Lyceum,  May  14,  1851. 

4.  '  Two  to  One  ;  or,  The  King's  Visit.'  Produced 
at  Wallack's  Theatre,  Dec.  6,  1854. 

5.  '  First  Impressions.'  Produced  at  Wallack's 
Theatre,  Sep.  17,  1856. 

6.  The  •  Veteran.'  Produced  at  Wallack's  Theatre, 
Jan.  17,  1859. 

7.  *  Central  Park.'  Produced  at  Wallack's  Theatre, 
1861.     Revived,  Nov.,  1862. 

8.  '  Rosedale.'  Produced  at  Wallack's  Theatre, 
Sept.  30,  1863. 

The  *  Guardsmen'  and  the  '  Musketeers'  are  melo- 
dramas, based  on  the  well-known  romances  of  Alex- 
andre Dumas.  A  story  by  James  Grant,  entitled 
'  Frank  Hilton,  or  the  Queen's  Own,'  furnished  the 
basis  of  the  '  Veteran  '  (in  which  old  Dehnar  was  the 
last  part  ever  studied  by  the  elder  Wallack).  '  Rose- 
dale  '  was  suggested  by  Captain  Hamley's  novel,  in 
Blackwood! s  Magazine,  of  'Lady  Lee's  Widowhood.' 

Something  of  the  same  skill  that  makes  this  come- 
dian's art  so  clear,  crisp,  and  glittering — so  sharp 
in  outline,  so  delicate  in  spirit,  and  so  emphatic  in 
effect — is  needful  to  the  writer  who  would  do  even 
approximate  justice  to  his  brilliant  delineations. 
Ordinary  descriptive  phrases  are  inadequate  to  con- 
vey a  just  impression  of  the  quality  that  makes  his 


MR.  LESTER    WALLACK.  291 

acting  pre-eminently  the  best  of  its  kind.  What  Mr. 
Wallack  preserves  in  comedy  is  that  indescribable 
beauty  which — as  sometimes  in  the  odor  of  a  flower, 
or  in  the  glint  of  the  autumn  sunshine  on  the  fading 
woods,  or  the  sad  murmur  of  waves  on  a  summer 
beach — touches  the  heart  and  charms  the  mind  with  a 
sense  of  pleasure  neither  to  be  analyzed  nor  explained. 
Many  causes  contribute  to  this  effect.  His  precision, 
his  mastery  of  light  and  shade,  his  fine  use  of  inflec- 
tion, his  rippling  humor,  his  undertone  of  earnest 
sentiment,  his  grace  of  manner,  his  polished  method 
of  dealing  with  situations  and  with  language — all 
combine  to  give  his  portraitures  the  certainty  of  life. 
But,  over  that  reality,  an  interior  grace  casts  a 
glamour  of  refinement  that — for  no  assignable  reason 
— makes  the  mind  content,  serene,  and  happy  in  a 
sense  of  absolute  and  finished  grace.  Within  this 
peculiar  realm  of  light  comedy  and  dealing  with  the 
evanescent,  the  fanciful,  the  romantic,  the  vivacious — 
things  symbolized  in  a  butterfly's  wing  or  the  scent  of 
a  spring  breeze — Mr.  Wallack  is  an  absolute  master. 

William  Winter, 


My  first  memory  of  New  York  life,  from  a  theatrical 
point  of  view,  dates  back  to  the  year  1848.  The  late 
George  Barrett,  an  American  manager,  was  sent  over 
to  London  by  a  Colonel  Mann  to  engage  artists  for 
what  was  to  be  known  as  the  "  New  Broadway  Thea- 
tre," then  in  course  of  construction  on  the  corner  of 
Broadway  and  Anthony  Street,  I  think — but  never 
mind  the  locality.  It  is  now  occupied  by  stores.  I 
was  one  of  the  number  of  actors  who  were  secured, 


292  MR.  LESTER    WALLACK. 

and  opened  here  as  Sir  Charles  Coldstream  in  *  Used 
Up,'  subsequently  playing  all  the  light  comedy  parts 
and  occasionally  supporting  Mr.  Forrest,  Mr.  Ander- 
son and  other  famous  stars  of  the  day.  For  reasons 
of  my  own  at  that  time  I  assumed  the  name  of  "  Mr. 
John  Lester."  During  our  second  season — I  think  it 
was  our  second  season — William  Ruf  us  Blake  was  the 
manager,  and  the  pecuniary  results  were  not  altogether 
profitable.  One  morning  he  came  to  me  with  the 
play   adapted    from   Dumas'   novel,    now   known    as 

*  Monte  Cristo,'  written,  I  believe,  by  a  Mr.  Andrews, 
and  said,  "  Here,  John,  this  is  a  new  departure,  but 
you  must  undertake  it.  The  success  of  the  theatre 
depends  on  the  success  of  this  piece."  I  argued,  but 
he  insisted  and  won.  The  play  ran  for  more  than  a 
hundred  nights,  became  the  town  talk,  saved  the 
theatre,  helped  my  reputation  wonderfully,  and  for 
the  time  being  was,  to  use  a  vulgarism,  "the  rage." 
After  this,  receiving  a  tempting  oifer  from  Mr.  Ham- 
blin,  of  the  Bowery  Theatre,  whose  aim  it  then  was 
to  attract  the  fashionable  people  to  that  portion  of 
the  city,  I  made  an  engagement  with  him.  Besides 
myself,  the  company  embraced  my  cousin,  James 
Wallack,  Jr.,  his  wife,  our  present  John  Gilbert,  and 
others  who  have  since  become  more  or  less  prominent 
in  the  profession.  There  I  again  happened  to  be 
lucky,   and   made   a  hit  with  my  adaptation  of  the 

*  Three  Guardsmen,'  following  it  at  the  request  of 
Mr.  Hamblin  with  the  sequel,  the  *  Four  Musketeers.' 
The  major  part  of  the  season  was  absorbed  by  the 
performance  of  these  plays,  and  the  purpose  of  the 
management  was  in  a  great  measure  subserved.  Soon 
after  these  successes  Mr,  William  E.  Burton,  who  was 


MR.  LESTER    WALLA CK.  293 

running  the  Chambers  Street  Theatre,  which  adjoined 
the  present  downtown  wholesale  branch  of  A.  T. 
Stewart's  establishment,  sent  for  me  and  offered  the 
most  flattering  terms  for  an  engagement.  I  accepted, 
and  there  laid  the  foundation  of  the  good  fortune  that 
has  since  waited  upon  me  in  the  presentation  of  the 
old  English  comedies.  Among  the  company  were 
William  Rufus  Blake,  Mrs.  John  Hoey  (then  Mrs. 
Russell),  Mary  Taylor,  the  present  Mrs.  Charles 
Mathews  (then  Miss  Weston),  Henry  Placide  and 
others. 

Lester  Wallack,  reported  in  New  York  Herald^ 
November  21,  1880. 

Mr.  Burton  was  very  fond  of  Lester  Wallack  in 
those  days.  He  admired  him  very  much.  "  That 
young  man  is  full  of  dramatic  instinct,  he  has  the 
talent  of  the  family,"  he  would  say  ;  "  but  he  is  going 
to  be  ruined  by  his  beauty."  "  Why  ?  "  said  his  inter- 
locutor, "  do  you  think  he  is  vain  ? "  "  No,"  said 
Burton,  "  but  the  women  go  wild  about  him,  and  he 
will  think  beauty  is  enough." 

He  lived  long  enough  to  see  Mr.  Wallack  conquer 
the  disadvantage  of  his  beauty  and  become  a  first- 
rate  artist.  I  remember  when  he  put  the  handsome 
young  Lester  into  blonde  wig  and  made  him  play 
Slender.  I  think  the  way  he  did  it  gave  Burton  great 
comfort. 

Mr.  Lester's  Claude  Melnotte  filled  the  town  with 
sighs.  No  successes  of  the  English  actors  of  this  last 
winter  have  been  more  complete.  Young,  ladies  wore 
the  tricolor  in  their  bonnets,  hid  his  picture  in  their 
choicest  caskets,   and  treasured    his  image  in  their 


294  MR    LESTER    WALLA Ot. 

hearts.  I  remember  nothing  more  gallant,  more  per- 
fect, than  this  piece  of  acting.  His  attitude,  as  he 
is  discovered  in  the  morning,  lying  at  the  foot  of  the 
stairs,  watching  the  door  of  his  beloved,  was  the  very 
embodiment  of  the  lover's  ardor.  It  was  a  devotee 
watching  at  the  shrine  of  his  patron  saint  ;  it  was  the 
man's  despair,  the  poet's  dream.  Young  ladies  went 
home  with  new  requirements  in  the  way  of  devotion. 
Lovers  had  to  go  to  Wallack's  Theatre  and  study  up. 
Laura  Keene's  Pauline  was  very  justly  admired  ;  she 
gave  the  gardener's  son  an  excuse  for  his  dishonest 
folly.  Lester,  in  his  subsequent  dress  as  the  prince 
and  the  officer  was  pronounced  "  too  handsome  to 
live,"  but  fortunately  he  survived  it. 

It  seems  absurd,  after  the  subsequent  successes  of 
this  favorite  actor,  to  go  back  to  this  youthful  perform- 
ance, but  it  has  left  an  indelible  impression  on  my 
memory.  It  was  very  full  of  the  ardor  of  youth. 
The  early  morning  gilded  it  with  its  beams.  It  was 
love  in  its  choicest  moment ;   it  was  like  the  first  kiss. 

M.  E.  W.  Sherwood,  in  the  New  York  Times, 
January  20,  1875. 

Then  [1851]  in  early  manhood  the  unrestrained 
alertness  and  vivacity  of  youth  were  his  in  bounteous 
measure.  He  was  in  the  Percy  Ardent  and  Young 
Rapid  period,  and  had  not  yet  entered  the  corridor  of 
years,  at  the  far  end  of  which  lurked  the  blase  figure 
of  '  My  Awful  Dad.'  We  remember  him  in  so  many 
parts  which  in  all  likelihood  he  will  never  play  again. 
There  was  Rover  in  *  Wild  Oats  ' — that  buskined 
hero  with  his  captivating  nonchalance  dashed  with 
tragic  fire  ;  his  tender  conversion  of  Lady  Amaranth, 


MR.  LESTER    WALLACK.  295 

played,  be  it  said,  with  all  proper  demureness  by  Miss 
Lizzie  Weston  ;  his  triumph  over  Ephraim  Smooth — 
one  of  Blake's  instances  of  versatility — in  a  scene  rich 
with  the  spirit  of  frolic  abandon  ;  and  his  humorous 
tilt  with  Sir  George  Thunder — a  belligerent  sea-dog, 
played  by  Burton  as  he  alone  could  play  it — an  episode 
replete  with  comic  power  ;  all  these  contributed  to  a 
performance  which  we  revelled  in  many  and  many  a 
night,  and  the  memory  of  it  now  as  we  write  draws 
near  in  a  succession  of  vivid  pictures.  There  was 
Tangent  in  the  '  Way  to  Get  Married,'  a  capital  part 
in  Lester's  hands,  blending  manly  action  and  debonair 
grace  with  that  easy  transition  to  any  farcical  expres- 
sion, a  favorite  and  effective  dramatic  habit  of  this 
actor  and  given  full  play  in  that  memorable  prison 
scene  in  the  comedy,  when,  a  victim  to  adverse  cir- 
cumstances, and  actually  fettered,  he  makes  felicitous 
use  of  his  pocket  handkerchief  to  hide  his  mortifica- 
tion and  his  chains  from  the  eyes  of  the  heroine  dur- 
ing her  visit  of  sympathy.  Percy  Ardent  in  the 
'  West  End  '  was  another  of  his  characteristic  assump- 
tions in  those  days  ;  so  also  were  Young  Rapid  in 
*  A  Cure  for  the  Headache,'  awd  the  Hon.  Tom  Shuffle- 
ton  in  *  John  Bull,'  and  indeed  Burton's  frequent 
revivals  of  the  old  comedies  would  have  been  a  diffi- 
cult matter  without  Lester,  for  in  every  one  of  them  a 
light  comedy  part  is  distinctly  drawn,  and  unquestion- 
ably the  rarest  among  all  dramatic  artists  is  the  first- 
class  light  comedian 

The  versatility  of  Lester,  so  conspicuous  through- 
out his  career,  was  early  made  apparent.  We  remem- 
ber him  as  Steer  forth,  as  Sir  Andreiv  Aguecheek  and 
Captain  Murphy  Maguire  j  and  though  in  the  last  he 


296  MR.  LESTER    WALLACK. 

acted  under  the  shadow  of  Brougham's  rich  imper- 
sonation, still  he  was  a  delightful  Captain.  We  saw 
him  as  the  young  lover  in  '  Paul  Pry  ' ;  as  Frederick 
in  the  '  Poor  Gentleman,'  and  many  more  ;  besides 
those  parts,  such  as  Young  Marlow,  Charles  Surface 
and  Captain  Absolute,  which  need  no  reference,  since 
they  remain  ripe  and  finished  conceptions  in  his  pres- 
ent repertory.  But  of  all  his  delineations  of  the  past, 
that  which  we  linger  on  with  the  greatest  pleasure,  and 
which  affected  us  most,  was  his  Harry  Dornton  in 
the  *  Road  to  Ruin.'  From  the  moment  he  appears 
beneath  his  father's  window,  importunate  for  admit- 
tance, he  awakens  an  interest  and  sympathy  that  fol- 
low him  to  the  end.  The  part  abounds  in  touches  of 
Lesterian  hue  and  flavor. 
Wm.  L.  Keese  :  'Life  of  Burton,'   pp.  67-9,  71-2. 

It  has  frequently  been  remarked  that  one  of  the 
chief  charms  of  Lester  Wallack's  acting  is  the  exceed- 
ingly cool  manner  which  he  is  able  to  assume.  Those 
who  know  him  in  private  life  need  not  be  told  that  it 
costs  him  no  effort  to  assume  that  which  is  inborn. 
As  an  evidence  of  his  'natural  coolness  the  following 
is  of  interest  : 

A  year  or  two  ago,  while  he  was  playing  in  the 
drama  of  *  Home,'  and  just  after  appearing  in  the 
disguise  of  Colonel  White,  and  being  ordered  from 
the  house  by  his  father,  who  does  not  know  him,  and 
even  while  he  was  engaged  in  repeating  the  lines  of 
his  part  expressing  disgust  at  this  treatment,  a  number 
of  persons  in  the  audience  shouted  excitedly  : 

"  Look  behind  you  !     Look  behind  you  !  " 

Mr.  Wallack  turned  quietly  and  noticed  that  on  the 


MK.  LESTER    WALLACK.  297 

Stage  mantel-piece  the  candle  had  burned  down 
almost  to  the  socket,  and  had  ignited  the  paper  which 
was  wrapped  around  it.  This  was  in  a  blaze,  and  a 
curtain,  which  hung  above  it,  was  on  the  point  of 
taking  fire.  The  danger  was  imminent,  but  the  actor 
was  equal  to  the  occasion.  Without  the  least  show  of 
excitement,  he  drew  the  candlestick  away  from  the 
curtain,  and  held  it  while  the  burning  wax  fell  fast 
upon  his  unprotected  hand,  and  all  the  time  continued 
to  repeat  the  lines  of  his  part,  thus  reassuring  the 
alarmed  audience.  When  the  danger  was  past,  to 
loud  applause,  he  said  simply,  of  course  interlining 
the  words  : 

"  Well,  the  '  Governor  '  has  turned  me  out  of  his 
house,  for  which  I  am  exceedingly  sorry,  but  I  at 
least  have  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  I  have 
been  instrumental  in  saving  the  establishment  from 
destruction  by  fire." 

Howard  Carroll  :  *  Twelve  Famous  Americans.' 
— Lester  Wallack. 

Now,  the  artist  who  really  effected  this  great  work 
for  the  stage  was,  as  his  father  was  ever  happy  and 
proud  to  acknowledge,  Mr.  Lester  Wallack.  If  he 
did  not  lay  the  granite  block,  he  wielded  the  silver 
trowel.  His  father's  health  was  at  the  time  much 
broken,  and,  though  his  experience  and  taste  lent 
direction,  and  his  unflagging  spirit  confidence  and 
strength,  the  work  was  done  by  Mr.  Lester  Wallack, 
and  it  may  be  useful  for  the  young  and  rising  mem- 
bers of  the  profession  to  know  that  those  honors 
which  Mr.  Lester  Wallack  wears  now  with  such  a 
graceful  ease  were  earned  by  hard  and  unremitting 


298  MJi.  LESTER    WALLA  CK. 

toil.  The  popular  error,  which  has  attracted  too 
many  idle  young  men  to  the  profession,  that  actors 
earn  their  money  easily,  and  that  no  labor  attends 
their  vocation,  is  one  of  the  gayest  delusions  of  the 
day,  from  which  not  a  few  have  found  unpleasant 
disenchantment. 

Mr.  Lester  Wallack  has  often,  when  receiving  but 
a  small  salary,  after  playing  two  parts  in  Southamp- 
ton one  night,  at  the  close  of  the  performance  had  to 
study  a  new  part  travelling  in  the  stage  at  night,  and 
be  at  rehearsal  at  Winchester  next  morning  ;  and  we 
have  known  him  for  a  considerable  portion  of  his 
career  to  rise  at  four  and  five  in  the  morning  and 
devote  several  hours,  the  only  ones  he  could  snatch, 
to  study,  for  he  really  studied.  Later  in  the  day, 
four  hours  were  occupied  at  rehearsal ;  and,  after  a 
hasty  dinner,  the  hours  from  six  to  eleven  were  occu- 
pied in  the  severest  mental  and  bodily  strain.  The 
career  of  DTsraeli,  perhaps  the  most  brilliant  actor  of 
our  time,  can  furnish  no  more  vigorous  proof  of  long 
and  well-sustained  labor 

Mr.  Lester  Wallack's  greatest  characteristic  as  an 
artist  is,  perhaps,  his  versatility.  For  the  art  of 
entering  into  the  peculiarities  of  a  variety  of  charac- 
ters he  is  without  a  rival.  What  general  expression 
is  large  enough  to  take  in  such  a  round  of  characters, 
in  each  of  which  he  is  without  a  rival,  as  Mercutio, 
Benedick,  Orlando,  Cassia,  Harry  Dornton,  the  Stran- 
ger, St.  Pierre,  the  Brigand,  Evelyn,  Don  Felix, 
Horace  JDe  Beauval,  Claude  Melnotte  (which  he  has 
played  a  greater  number  of  successive  nights  than 
any  actor  but  Macready),  the  Rover,  Wildrake,  in  the 
*  Love  Chase,'  and  a  hundred  others,  in  light  farce 


MR.  LESTER    WALLA  CK.  299 

and  vaudeville,  which  he  has  made  peculiarly  his 
own.  Most  other  actors  have  a  fixed  routine,  or,  if 
the  routine  be  not  so  fixed  in  itself,  their  peculiarities 
produce  a  resemblance  between  the  characters  they 
represent.  But  in  a  new  part  Mr.  Wallack  is  a  new 
individual ;  the  outer  and  inner  man  are  completely 
changed,  and  the  transmigration  of  souls  could  not 
convey  more  forcibly  the  putting  on  of  a  new  soul 
and  body.  He  has  been  the  original  and  has  made 
the  characters  of  Monte  Christo,  Elliott  Grey,  Captain 
of  the  Watch,  Badger,  in  the  *  Poor  of  New  York  ' 
[Randal],  McGregor,  in  '  Jessie  Brown,'  Horace  De 
Beauval,  in  the  '  Poor  Young  Man,'  Chalcotte,  in 
*  Ours,'  besides  a  multitude  of  others 

As  an  artist,  Mr.  Wallack  possesses  the  advantage 
of  a  singularly  handsome  presence,  which,  if  not 
absolutely  essential  to  success,  contributes  certainly 
largely  to  it.  Lord  Byron  predicted  early  his  father's 
success  on  account  of  his  natural  style  of  acting,  and 
Mr.  Wallack  belongs  to  his  father's  school.  It  is  a 
great  mistake  to  suppose  that  the  dolc'e  far  niente,  do- 
nothing,  drawly  style  of  acting,  which  is  at  present 
called  '  natural  acting,'  is  really  so.  It  may  be  a 
copy  of  the  modern  style,  but  the  style  itself  is  arti- 
ficial, and  not  natural.  '  Natural  acting '  has  been 
justly  defined  as  the  depicting  of  character  and 
emotion  by  gesture  and  expression — the  result  of  an 
impulse  of  the  feeling  controlled  by  the  judgment, 
and  directed  into  the  right  channel  by  previous  study. 
Conventional  acting  is  an  artificial  substitution  of 
mannerism  for  the  spontaneous  prompting  of  momen- 
tary feeling. 

The  present  race  of  actors  may  be  divided  into 


300  MR.  LESTER    WALLACK. 

two  classes,  such  of  them,  at  least,  as  deserve  the 
name,  and  they  are  not  many,  who  attempt  any  thing 
more  than  to  learn  the  words  set  down  for  them  to 
speak  :  those  who  study  with  what  tone,  look,  and 
action  to  accompany  their  part,  and  those  who  study 
the  whole  play,  and  know  what  to  do  when  they  are 
not  speaking.  To  these  latter  few  Mr.  Wallack 
belongs.  Acting  is  an  art  requiring  imaginative 
powers  as  well  as  mimetic  skill  ;  lively  sympathy  with 
the  character,  which  Mr.  Wallack  has,  is  far  more 
essential  to  a  fine  performance  than  mimicry  of  indi- 
vidual peculiarities,  which  Mr.  Sothern  possesses. 
Mr.  Wallack  really  enters  into  the  part,  and  some  of 
his  charming  bits  of  business  in  comedy  do  not  even 
seem  to  be  tricks  of  trade,  but  things  to  which  he  is 
propelled  by  an  instinctive  propensity — the  innatus 
amor  habendi  of  Virgil's  bees. 
The  Galaxy y  October,  1868. 


INDEX. 

Adams,  Edwin.     65,118. 
Adams,  W.  Davenport.     Quoted,  176. 
Aide,  Hamilton.     181. 
Albery,  James.     28,  270. 
Aldridge,  Ira.     177. 
Anderson,  James.     179,  292. 
Anderson,  Mary,  Biographical  Sketch  of.     1-18, 
Angelo,  Michael.     194. 

Archer,    William,  Biographical  Sketches  by.     2i-33» 
177-185. 
"  "         Quoted,  16-18,  151,  259-60. 

Astley,  Philip.     82. 

Badeau,  Adam.     Quoted,  68. 

Bancroft,  Squire  Bancroft,  Biographical  Sketch 

of.     19-36. 
"  "  "  Mentioned,  181, 254, 

Bancroft,  Mrs.     (Miss  Marie  Wilson),     Biographi- 
cal Sketch  of.     19-36. 
"  "         Mentioned,  181. 

Barrett,  George  H.     286,  288,  291. 
Barrett,  Lawrence,  Biographical  Sketch  of.  37-54. 
"  "  Biographical  Sketch  by.  67-76. 

"  "  Mentioned,  62,  118,  233. 

Barrett,  Wilson.     270. 
Bateman,  H.  L.     135. 

301 


302  INDEX. 

Bateman,  Isabel.    254. 

Bateman,  Kate.     179,  220. 

Beaconsfield,  Lord.     298. 

Becker,  Bernard  Henry.     186-8.  — 

Beere,  Mrs.  Bernard.     29. 

Beethoven.     207. 

Bell,  Edw.  Hamilton,   Biographical   Sketch  by.     96- 

106. 
Benda,  Felix.     197,  199,  202. 
Benda,  Josef.    197. 
Benda,  Mme.    195,  196,  197. 
Benda,  Simon.     197. 
Bennoch,  Francis.     Quoted,  2. 
Bernhardt,  Sarah.     12,  192,209,  221, 
Blake,  Wm.  Rufus.     156,  287,  288,  289,  292,  293. 
Blanchard,  E.  L.     272. 
Bland,  Humphrey.     288. 
Boker,  Geo.  H.     43. 
Booth  Edwin,  Biographical  Sketch  of.     55-76, 

"        "  Mentioned,  5,    39,    46,  41,    45,    46, 

96-7,  100,  loi,  102,  142-3,  213-14. 
Booth,  Mrs.  Edwin  (Mary  Devlin).     61-63. 
Booth,  Mrs.  Edwin  (Mary  McVicker).     65. 
Booth,  Junius  Brutus.     57-61,  67,  68,  99,  100,  118, 
Booth,  Mrs.  Junius  Brutus.     57,  69. 
Booth,  J.  B.  Jr.     60-1,  68. 
Booth,  John  Wilkes.     69. 

BouciCAULT,  Dion,  Biographical  Sketch  of.     77-94. 
"  "       Mentioned,  26,     102,    119,  134, 

i57»  158,  i79»  167. 
"  "       Quoted,  168-70. 

BouciCAULT,  Mrs  Dion  (Agnes    Robertson).     Bio- 
graphical Sketch  of.     77-94. 


INDEX.  303 

Bozenta,  Count.     199-200,  200-1,  203-4. 

BozENTA,  Countess  (See  Mme.  Modjeska). 

Brodribb,  John  Henry  (See  Henry  Irving). 

Brohan,  Augustine.     190. 

Brohan,  Suzanne.     190. 

Brooke,  G.  V.     23,  179. 

Brough,  Wm.     21,  22,  26,  267,  277,  280. 

Brougham,  John.    115,  118-22,  218,  287,  289,  290,  296. 

Brougham,  Mrs.  John  (Miss  Nelson).     119-22,  289. 

Browning,  Robert.     50. 

Buckstone,  J.  B.    178,  180,  233. 

Bulwer-Lytton.     47,  70,  89. 

Bunner,  H.  C,  Biographical  Sketch  by.     154-160. 

Burbage,  Richard.     38. 

Burke,  Chas.     150,  158. 

Burke,  lone.     216. 

Burke,  Thos.     156,  note. 

Burnand,  F.  C.     29,  106,  270. 

Burnett,  Mrs.  F.  H.     183. 

Burton,  Wm.  E.     41,  87,  115,  118,  287,  288,  292,  293, 

295- 
Burton,  Mrs.  Wm.  E.  (Jane  Hill).     288. 
Byron,  Henry  J.     22,  23,  24,  25,   26,  27,   105,  i49-5o» 

268,  269,  270,  276,  281. 
Byron,  Lord.     299. 

Calegi,  Mme.     201,  202. 
Carlyle,  Thos.     119.  . 

Carr,  J.  Comyns.     183. 

"     "        "  Quoted,  148-9,  189-90,  262-3. 

Carroll,  Howard.     Quoted,  296-7. 
Cecil,  Arthur.     28,  29. 
Celeste,  Mme.     22, 


304  INDEX. 

Centlivre,  Mrs.     50. 

Chanfrau,  F.  S.     156. 

Chapman,  Wm.     158. 

Ch^ri,  Rose.     222. 

Chippendale,  F.     289. 

Chippendale,  Wm.     115. 

Chlapowski,  Charles  Bozenta.     i99--2oo,  200-1,  203-4. 

Chopin.     210. 

Cibber,  Colley.     100,  139, 

Clarke,  Asia  Booth.    Quoted.    67-8,  68-9,  69-70,  100. 

Clarke,  H.  Saville.     Quoted.  127,  240. 

Clarke,  John.     109. 

Clarke,  John  S.,  Biographical  Sketch  of.     95-112. 

"  "      "       Mentioned,  63. 

Clarke,  Stephen.     99. 
Claxton,  Kate.     253. 
Clayton,  John.     270. 
Clemens,  Samuel   L.     ("  Mark  Twain").     231,  234, 

236,  238. 
Coghlan,  Charles  F.     27,  181,  182,  253,  270. 
Collins,  Mabel.     Quoted,  210. 
Collins,  Wilkie.     Quoted,  27,  213. 
Compton,  Henry.     145. 
Cone,  Helen  Gray.     Quoted,  248. 
Conway,  F.  B.     116. 
Cook,  Button.     Quoted,  257-9. 
Coquelin,  B.  C.     165,  190,  223. 
Couldock,  C.  W.     214. 
Crabbe,  George.     82. 
Crabtree,  Charlotte  ("  Lotta").     n8. 
Cramer,  Mrs.     289. 

Curtis,  George  Wm.     Quoted,  91-4,  loi,  149,  164-5. 
Cushman,  Charlotte.  3, 4, 5,  lo-i  i,  41, 50, 115, 134, 150. 


INDEX.  305 

Daly,  Augustin,     216,  218,  219,  220. 

JDaly,  Julia.     288. 

Darley,  Felix  O'C.     162. 

Davenport,  A.  H.     288. 

Davenport,  Edwin  L.     41,  63. 

Davenport,  Fanny.     317. 

Davenport,  Lizzie  Weston  (Mrs.  Chas.  J.  Mathews). 

288,  293,  295. 
Davis,  L.  Clark.     Quoted,  166. 
Dawson,  J._M.    287. 
Dean,  Julia.     n6. 
Delaunay,  L,  A.     190. 
Delpit,  Albert.     182. 
D'Ennery,  Adolph.     184. 
Desclee,  Aimee.     221,  226,  254. 
Deslandes,  Raymond.     183. 
DeWalden,  T.  B.     4. 

Devlin,  Mary  (Mrs.  Edwin  Booth).     61,  63. 
Dickens,  Charles.     30,  102,  122,  127,  172,  214,  268, 
270,  273,  282.  V 

"  "  Quoted,  22. 

Diderot,  Denis.     223. 
Dietz,  Linda.     216. 
Dillon,  Charles.     21. 
Dinsmore,  George.     234. 
Disraeli,  Benj.     298. 
Dobson,  Austin.     Quoted,  38. 
Drew,  John  (Elder).     100. 
Drew,  Mrs.  John.     118,  156. 
Dubourg,  A.  W.     179. 
Dumas,  Alexandre  (Younger).     199,  226,  288,  290, 

292. 
Dunn,  James.     119,  288. 


3o6  INDEX, 

Eddy,  Edward.     287. 

Edwards,  Sutherland.     183.  • 

Elizabeth,  Queen.     156. 

EUsler,  John.     213. 

Emery,  John.     112, 

Ethel,  Agnes.     216. 

Eytinge,  Rose.     205,  206. 

Farjeon,  B.  L.     158, 

Farjeon,  Mrs.  B.  L.    (Margaret  Jane  Jefferson).  158. 

Farnie,  H.  B.     105. 

Farrar,  J.  M.     Quoted,  lo-ii. 

Faucit,  Helen  (Lady  Martin).     134,  179. 

"  "  Quoted,  17. 

Fawcett,  Edgar.     Quoted,  56. 
Fechter,  Charles.     107,  137,  179,  237. 
Feuillet,  Octave.     134. 
Field,  Elizabeth.     285. 
Fisher,  Charles.     9. 
Fisk,  James.     242. 
Fiske,  Stephen.     Quoted,  279. 
Fitzgerald,  Percy.     Quoted,  109. 
Fletcher,  John.     156. 
Florence,  Wm.  J.,   Biographical  Sketch  of.  1 13-130. 

"  "         Mentioned,  279. 

Florence,  Mrs.  Wm.  J.  (Malvina   Pray).     Biograph- 
ical Sketch  of.     1 13-130. 
"  «  "       Mentioned,  289. 

Forrest,  Edwin.     45,  62,  116,  118,  150,  292. 
Forrest,  Mrs.  Edwin  (Catherine  Sinclair).     118. 
Forster,  John.     22. 

Garrett,  Thomas  E,     Quoted,  114. 


INDEX.  3*7 

Garrick,  David.     146,  150,  155,  285. 

"  George  Sand."     214. 

Gilbert,  John.     292. 

Gilbert,  W.  S.     14-15,  27,  180,  181,  182,  219. 

Gilder,  Jeannette  L.,     Biographical   Sketch  by.    195- 

204. 
Gilder,  Richard  Watson.     Quoted,  194,  207. 
Gill,  Wm.     235. 
Gillette,  W.  H.     183. 
Godfrey,  G.  W.     181,  182. 
Goethe.     197,  201. 
Gordon,  Walter.     268. 
Got,  F.  J.  E.     165,  190. 
Gould,  Jay.     242. 
Gould,_Miss  J.     289. 
Grace,  J.  D.     288. 
Grant,  James.     290. 
Griffin,  Gerald.     81. 

Grimston,  Wm.  Hunter  (See  W.  H.  Kendal). 
Grundy,  Sydney.     180,  183. 

Hackett,  J.  H.     41,  158. 

Hale,  Charles.     289. 

Hale,  Mrs.  Charles.     289. 

Halevy,  Ludovic.     29. 

Halliday,  Andrew.     23,  178. 

Hamblin,  Thos.     292. 

Hamley,  E.  B.     290. 

Hading,  Jane.     226. 

Hardy,  Thos.     183. 

Hare,  John.     26,  30,  181,  182,  183,  184. 

Harkins,  D.  H.     215. 

Harrigan,  Edward.     218. 

Hart,  Tony.     218. 


308  INDEX. 

Harte,  Bret.     224. 

Heller,  Robert.     206. 

Henley,  W.  E.     Quoted,  190-2. 

Hill,  Barton.     205. 

Hill,  Jane  (Mrs.  Wm.  E.  Burton).     288. 

Hoey,  Mrs.  John  (Josephine  Shaw,  Mrs.  Russell).  288, 

293- 
Hogarth,  Wm.     214,  270. 
Holcroft,  Thomas.     160. 
Holland,  George.     150. 
Hollingshead,  John.     180,  270. 
Holman,  George.     288. 
Holman,  Mrs.  George.     288. 
Homer.  -  196. 
Honey,  George.     26. 
Horton,  Priscilla.     22. 
Howard,  Bronson.     217. 
Howe,  Henry.     143. 
Howells,  W.  D.     43,  49-50,  236-7. 
Hughes,  Mrs.     288. 
Hugo,  Victor.     51,  52. 

Hutton,  Laurence,     Biographical  Sketch  by.     1 15-18. 
"  "  Quoted,  90-1,  119-22,  170-1. 

lasinski,  J.  S.     199,  201. 

Ireland,  Joseph  N.     Quoted,  loi. 

Irving,  Henry,  Biographical  Sketch  of.     131-152. 

"  "         Mentioned,  30,  42,  46,  118,  127,  192, 

225,  251-2,  253,  254,  255,  259,260, 
261,  269-70. 

"  "        Quoted,  276-8. 

Irving,  Washington.     158,  161. 

"  "  Quoted,  160. 

Isherwood,  AVilliam.     158. 


INDEX.  309 

Jackson,  Gen.  Andrew.     159. 
Jackson,  T.  J.  ("  Stonewall  Jackson  ").     159. 
James,  C.  J.     24. 

Jefferson,  Joseph  [1774-1832].     155. 
Jefferson,  Joseph  [1804-1842].     155,  156,  160. 
Jefferson,  Joseph  [1829         ],  Biographical  Sketch 
of.     153-174- 
"  "       Mentioned,  81,  91,  214. 

Jefferson,  Mrs.  Joseph  (Margaret  C.  Lockyer).     156, 

157- 
Jefferson,  Mrs.  Joseph  (Miss  Warren).     158. 
Jefferson,  Thomas  (Actor).     155. 
Jefferson,  Wm.  Winter.     158. 
Jerrold,  Douglas.     182. 

fessop,  George  H.,  Biographical  Sketch  by.     231-236. 
Mentioned,  118,  235. 
Quoted,  204-7. 
Jewett,  Sara.     217. 
Johnston,  Eliza.     271. 
Johnston,  Henry   Erskine.     285. 
Johnston,  T.  B.     288. 
Jordan,  George.     288. 

Kean,  Charles.     23,  64,  80,  141,  150,  179,  252,  258.. 

Kean,  Mrs.  Charles.     79,  80. 

Kean,  Edmund.     55,  68,  146,  150. 

Kearney,  Mr.     99. 

Keene,  Laura.     157,  160,  232,  289,  294. 

Keese,  Wm.  L.  Biographical  Sketch  by.     3-8. 

"  "        Quoted,  78, 87,  96, 154,  229,  284,  294-6. 

Keller.     281. 
Kemble,  Charles.     21. 
Kemble,  J.  P.     150. 


<<         << 


3  Id  INDEX. 

Kendal,  W.  H.,     Biographical  Sketch  of.     175-192. 

"  "  Mentioned,  28,  30. 

Kendal,  Mrs.  W.   H.     (Miss    Madge    Robertson), 
Biographical  Sketch  of.    175-192. 
"  "        Mentioned,  28,  36,  n^  221. 

Kervany,  V.     183. 
King,  John.     99. 

Knight,  Joseph.     Quoted,    274-6. 
Knowles,  J.  Sheridan.     45,  89. 
Kotzebue,  Augustus  Von.     97. 

Laffan,  W?n.  M.,  Biographical  Sketch  by.     38-43. 

Lamb,  Charles.     174. 

Lancaster,  E.  A.     220. 

Langtry,  Mrs.     29. 

Lee,  Sidney.     Quoted,  16. 

Lemaitre,  Fr^d^rick.     107. 

Lester,  Mr.  (See  Lester  Wallack). 

Lewis,  James.     216.     ' 

Lincoln,  Abram.     68,  159. 

Lincoln,  Claire.     Quoted,  34-6. 

Lind,  Jenny,  10 1. 

Liston,  John.     no. 

Lloyd,  D.  D.     235. 

Lockyer,  Margaret  Clements  (Mrs.  Joseph  Jefferson). 

X56. 
Lodge,  Thomas.     15. 
"  Lotta,"  (Charlotte  Crabtree).     118. 
Lynne,  Henry.     287. 

Macaulay,  Bernard.     5. 

Macready,  Wm.  C.     51,  55,  137,  150,  298. 

Magnus,  Julian.     220. 


INDEX.  311 

Mann,  Alvah.     286-7,  291.  * 

Marais,  M.     270. 

"  Mark  Twain  "  (S.  L.  Clemens).     231,  234,  236,  238. 

Marston,  Dr.  Westland.     178. 

Martin,  Benjamin    Ellis,     Biographical    Sketch    by. 

79-86. 
Martin,  Lady  (See  Helen  Faucit). 
Mason,  Charles  Kemble.     289. 
Mathews,  C.  J.     n,  41,  134,  173-4,  i79- 
Mathews,  Mrs.   C.    J.  (Lizzie  Weston,     Mrs.   A.  H. 

Davenport).     288,  293,  295. 
Matthews,  Brander.     Quoted,   165,  238-9. 
McCullough,   John.     39,  41,  45,  46,    118,   203,    205, 

233- 
McVicker,  Mary  (Mrs.  Edwin  Booth).     65. 
Meilhac,  Henri.     29. 
Merrivale,  Herman.     29,  268. 

MoDjESKA,  Helena,  Biographical  Sketch  of.     193- 
210. 

"  "  Mentioned,  29. 

Modjeska,  Ralph.     198,  203-4. 
Modrzegeroski.     197-8,  199. 
Moliere.     190,  201. 
Montepin,  X.  de.     183. 

Montgomery,  George  Edgar,  Biographical  Sketch  by, 

249-257. 

"  "  "         Quoted,  45-6,  228. 

Montgomery,  Walter.     177. 
Moore,  John.     288. 
Morley,  Henry.     Quoted,     161. 
Morris,  Clara,  Biographical  Sketch  of.     211-228. 
Morton,  J.  Maddison.     270. 
Mosenthal,  S.H.     179. 


312  INDEX. 

Mossop,  Henry.     150. 
Mowatt,  Anna  Cora.     116,232. 
Murdoch,  James  E.     41. 
Muskanoff,  Gen.     201, 

Neils'on,  Adelaide.     276. 

Nisbet,  J.  F.     106. 

Ohnet,  Georges.     183.  . 

Opida,  Michael.     195-6. 

Otway,  Thos.     97. 

Oxenford,  John.     268. 

Palmo,  Ferdinand.     288. 
Pascoe,  Charles  Eyre.     252. 

"  "  "         Quoted,  89,  109-10. 

Paulton,  Henry.     105-6. 
Payne,  John  Howard.     45. 
Pelby,  Wm.     118. 

Phelps,  Samuel.     23,  133,  137,  145,  179. 
Pinches,  Dr.     133. 
Pinero,  A.  W.     29,  182,  183. 
Placide,  Henry.     288,  293. 
Placide,  Thomas.     115. 
Plessy,  Arnould.     190. 

Pollock,  Walter  Herries,  Biographical  Sketch  by.     267- 
271. 
"  "  "        Quoted,  13-15, 73-5,  126,  152, 

261-2. 
Ponisi,  Mme.     287. 
Poole,  John.      109,  270. 
Power,  Tyrone.     286. 

Pray,  Malvina  (See  Mrs.  Wm.  J.  Florence). 
Pray,  Samuel.     118. 


INDEX.  Z^-l 

Prinsep,  Val,     i8i. 
Proctor,  Joseph.     214. 

Rachel.     88,  192. 

Racovitza,  Countess.     205. 

Rae,  C.  Masham.     106. 

Ranken,  McKee.     215. 

Raymond  John  T.,  Biographical  Sketch  of.  229-246. 

"        "       "         Mentioned,  118. 
Reade,  Charles.     253,  267. 
Reeves,  Sims.     270. 
Regnier,  F.  J.     165. 
Rice,  Thomas.  D.     154, 156. 
Richelieu,  Cardinal.     47. 

Robertson,  Agnes  (See  Mrs.  Dion  Boucicault). 
Robertson,  Madge  (See  Mrs.  W.  H.  Kendal). 
Robertson,  T.  W.  20,  25,  26,  27,  30,  31,  117,  177,  178, 

254- 
Robson,  Frederick.     134. 
Rosebery,  Lord.    Quoted,  273. 
Rowe,  George  Fawcett.      Quoted,  280-1. 
Russell,  Henry. 
Russell,  Mrs.  W.  H.  (See  Mrs.  Hoey). 

Sala,  George  Augustus.     Quoted,  46-7,  125-6. 

Salvini.     225,  228. 

Sand,  George.     214. 

Sardou,  V.     28,  29,  34,  183. 

Sargent,  Henry  J.     203,  206. 

Schiller.     197,  201. 

Scott,  Clement.    28,  30,  182, 

Scott-Siddons,  Mrs.  Mary  F.     179. 

Scott,  Sir  Walter.     81,  140. 


314  INDEX. 

Sefton,  John.     288. 

Sefton,  Mrs.  John  (Mrs.  Watts).     115,  287. 

Sefton,  Mrs.  (Ann  Waring,  Mrs.  J.  W.  Wallack  Jr.), 

Shakspere.   5,  7,   23,  note,  45,   50,  64,  65,  71,  75,    96, 

132,  i39>  194,  197,  210,  263,  287. 
Shaw,  Josephine  (See  Mrs.  Hoey). 
Shelton,  G.     271. 
Sheridan,  Gen.  Philip.     159. 
Sheridan,  R.  B.     119. 
Sherwood,  Mrs.  M.  E.  W.    Quoted,  71-2,  86-7,  87-8, 

239-40. 
Simpson,  Palgrave.     72-3,  181,  268. 
Sinclair,  Catherine  (Mrs.  Edwin  Forrest).     118. 
Skerrett,  George.     288. 
Skerrett,  Mrs.  George.     288. 
Smith,  Albert.     281. 
Smith,  E.  Thayer.     180,  183. 

Sothern,  E.  A.  24,  104, 118,  157,  178,  179,  232,  244-5, 
279,  299. 

«     '   •-*«       Quoted,  31-33. 
Sprague,  Elisha  B.     99. 

Stedman,  Edmund  Clarence.    Quoted,  70-1,  212. 
Stephens,  Mrs.     289. 
Stephenson,  B.  C.     28,  183. 
Sterling,  Mrs.     143,  190. 
Stewart,  A.  T.     293. 

Stuart,  Clinton,  Biographical    Sketch  by.     213-227. 
Stuart,  Wm.     63,  loi,  107-8,  157. 
Swanborough,  Ada.     23,  note. 

Talfourd,  T.  N.     22,  23,  89. 
Tarb^,  Edmond,  184. 
Taylor,  Mary.     115,  293. 


INDEX.  315 

Taylor,  Tom.     83,  188,  267. 

Telbin,  Rose.   287. 

Tennyson.     139,  142,  181,  186. 

Terriss,  William.     143. 

Terry,  Ellen,  Biographical  Sketch  of.     247-264. 

"  "  Mentioned,  27,  143,  192. 

Terry,  Kate.     258-9. 
Thackeray,  W.  M.     34. 
Thaxter,  Celia.     Quoted,  210. 
Thoman,  Jacob.     67. 
Thomas,  Miss  C.  F.   (Mrs.  Burke,  Mrs.   Jefferson). 

156. 
Thompson,  Lydia.     25. 
Thorne,  Emily  (Mrs.  Cavendish).     271. 
Titus,  Master.     156. 
Toole,   John  L.,  Biographical  Sketch  of.     265-282. 

"  "  Mentioned,  21,   note,  30,  118,  134. 

Tozvse,  J.  Ranken,  Biographical  Sketch  by.    132-148. 

"  "  Quoted,  128,  1 7 1-3,  207-8,  243-4. 

Troughton,  R.  Z.  S.  24. 
Tuckerman,  Henry.  69. 
Tyars,  F.     143. 

Vache,  Mr.    287. 
Vandenhoff,  George.     5,  11. 
Vernon,  Mrs.     115,  119. 

Walcot,  Charles.     289. 

Wallack,  Fanny.     112,  287. 

Wallack,  Henry.     287. 

Wallack,  J.  W.  (Elder).     62,  285-6,  288-9,  297. 

Wallack,  J.  W.  (Younger).     157,  287,  292. 


3i6  INDEX. 

Wallack,  Mrs.  J.  W.,  Jr.  (Ann   Waring,    Mrs.  Sefton). 

288,  292. 
Wallack,  Lester,  Biographical  Sketch  of.  283-300. 

"  "  Mentioned,  156. 

Wallack,  Wm.     285. 
Ward,  E.  D.     271. 
Waring,  Ann  (Mrs.  Sefton,  Mrs.  J.  W.  Wallack,  Jr.) 

288,  292. 
Warner,  Charles  Dudley.     238. 
Warren,  Ernest.     183. 
Watts,  Mrs.  (See  Mrs.  John  Sefton). 
Webster,  Benjamin.     22,  34-5,  134, 159,  267,  274,  286. 
Wedmore,  Frederick.     Quoted,  188. 
Weston,  Lizzie  (Mrs.  A.   H.   Davenport,  Mrs.   C.  J. 

Mathews).     288,  293,  295. 
Wheatleigh,  Charles.     156. 
Wheatley,  Win.     100. 
Wigan,  Alfred.     178,  268-9. 
Wigan,  Mrs.  Alfred  (Miss  Pincott).     269. 
Wilde,  Oscar.     Quoted,  264. 
Williams,  Barney.     101,116. 
Williams,  Mrs,  Barney.     loi,  116. 
Williams,  T.  H.     267. 
Wills,  W.  G.     46,  182,  254,  260. 
Wilton,  Marie  (See  Mrs.  Bancroft). 
Winstanley,  Mrs.     287. 

Winter,  Wm.     Biographical  Sketch  by.     285-91. 
"  *•        Mentioned,   158-9. 

"  "        Quoted,  I  i-i  2,  49-51,  52-3,  64,  75-6, 

112, 122-3,  127-8, 132, 150-1, 166-8,  173-4,  208-9, 

227-8,  239-40,  260-1,  265. 
Wood,  Mrs.  John.     34,  252. 
Woodward,  Henry.     112. 


INDEX.  317 


Wooler,  J.  P.     24. 
Woolf,  B.  E.     117,  124. 
Wright,  Edward.     281. 

Yates,  Edmund.     26,  277. 
Young,  Wm.     43,  50. 


